


SilverSoulmates.com

by La_Prima_Donna



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autism, Autistic Javert, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Cosette, Bottom Javert, Childhood Trauma, Confused Valjean, Cosette Ships It, Dark Past, Eventual Javert/Jean Valjean, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Horny Javert, Internalized Homophobia, Javert Lives, Javert's Confused Boner, Javert's Dildo Collection, Javert's Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Haired Javert, M/M, Marius is there, Masturbation, Matchmaker Cosette, Modern Era, Not Canon Compliant, Online Dating, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Religious Guilt, Romani Javert, Sassy Javert, Sexual Repression, Sexual Tension, Sexually Repressed Valjean, Texting, Top Valjean, Valjean Lives, Valjean can't figure out technology, Valjean is Hot, Valjean is a hopeless romantic, Valjean's Confused Boner, everything is awkward, gym selfies, valvert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15843909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Prima_Donna/pseuds/La_Prima_Donna
Summary: Cosette is fed up with her father being so lonely, especially since she moved in with Marius. Jean says he’s “too old to date” and he’s just “meant to be alone”, but Cosette knows better. She decides to take matters into her own hands and make her beloved Papa a profile on the “#1 50+ Exclusive online dating site in the world”, SilverSoulmates.com.A date with a policeman seems perfect for her straight-edged Papa!(Eventual Valvert. Rating and tags likely to change.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really have much to say, other than this fic is set in a modern AU in which Valjean and Javert never met each other, and both men are still alive. Javert didn’t have Valjean to kill himself over, and through the magic of technology, Valjean feels connected enough to Cosette to be fairly happy. Other that those elements, this fic is post-canon. Valjean is still an ex-con, and Javert is still a policeman. The Revolution happened about a year ago. 
> 
> Also, I have changed Valjean’s alias to “Jean Fauchelevent” because Ultime is such an outdated name for a modern AU.
> 
> SilverSoulmates.com is NOT a real dating site; I made it up for the purpose of this fic.
> 
> I think that’s all for now. Hope you enjoy!

“Do you think Papa would put a dad joke in his bio, or be serious?” Cosette asked, rubbing her chin. 

“Are you kidding? A dad joke, for sure!” Marius said.

“You’re right.” Cosette watched the blinking cursor and tried to come up with something her father would say. “‘I’m a papa bear looking for his honey’?”

Marius groaned. “That’s awful. Write it in.”

Cosette giggled and typed that opening line. “‘Hello! I’m a papa bear looking for his honey’,” she read out as she wrote. “‘I enjoy fitness, gardening, and taking long walks—‘“

“—On the beach?” Marius suggested.

Cosette giggled. “‘— On the beach or otherwise’,” she repeated, typing it in. “‘I’d love someone laid back and traditional who will come to church with me’... And uh… ‘and eat my cooking.’” She stopped typing and looked at her husband. “What do you think?”

Marius nodded. “That sounds like your papa to me.”

The young woman smiled. “This is so exciting!”

“It’s strange, is what it is,” corrected Marius. “Don’t you think he’ll be upset?”

“Papa  _ never  _ gets upset with me.”

Marius shrugged. “You’ve never made him a dating profile before, though, ‘Sette.”

“Marius, we’ve talked about this! You see how lonely Papa is. Ever since I’ve moved out, he’s gotten so mopey. The only time he’s been truly happy is since then is when he was helping us plan the wedding, and at the wedding itself. It’s clear —“

“—Yes, I know. Your logic is sound. He really should find someone,” admitted Marius. “But shouldn’t you have gotten his permission?”

“He won’t agree with me. He keeps saying crap about how he’s ‘too old to date’ and he’s ‘meant to be alone’. How can such a hopeless romantic be ‘meant to be alone’? I don’t get it.”

Marius sighed. They’d been over this several times already. As much as the young man wanted to be the voice of reason, he couldn't help but agree with his wife. “You’re right. Just… finish the profile.”

Cosette knew she was right. She was already looking for good pictures of her Papa on the computer. “Okay. So I was thinking a face picture, a full-body picture, and a goofy one?”

The young man nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Cosette scrolled through the pictures on the computer. The majority of them were of her and Marius or of scenery, and the pictures of her father were mostly not very good. Eventually, she found one from a trip she and her Papa took to the Alps a few years ago. This was right after she had bought him a selfie stick, and he had taken a selfie with the beautiful view of the mountains behind him. Her Papa was smiling and looked truly joyful. He was squinting a little into the sun, and it wasn’t the absolute best picture of him ever taken, but he looked so incredibly happy… Cosette almost felt sad, as she realized she hadn’t seen her Papa that happy in too long. 

“I like that,” Marius said. “You should use that one for sure!”

“Mm-hm,” she agreed, selecting it and cropping it into a square as the site wished. She clicked on ‘add another photo’, which took her back to the photo gallery.

“Oh, there are our wedding photos!” Marius pointed out. “There’ll be good ones of him all dressed up.”

“You’re right, babe! Smart cookie.” 

Cosette chose one of her and her father. He was in a crisp white suit with his hair done, which Cosette had always thought looked a little out of place. She thought Papa was meant to wear unflattering polo shirts and khaki shorts, or torn and dirty overalls and a big straw hat for gardening. But that was likely just her. 

“Should I crop myself out?” Cosette wondered aloud. 

“No! You look beautiful!” Her husband protested.

“But this isn’t about me, hun. It’s about Papa.”

“That’s true. But he wouldn’t want to crop you out, would he?”

She nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’ll leave myself in.”

For the goofy one, Marius and Cosette settled on a picture of her Papa from a few Halloweens ago—they joked it would prove to the skeptics that he was gay. He was dressed in very bad drag, with ill-fitting, cheap clothes and an even cheaper wig. The makeup looked somewhat okay because Cosette had done it and sincerely tried her best. Her father was blowing a kiss at the camera, his chest hair spilling out of his pink sequinned dress. Marius and Cosette had both seen the photo before — of course, Cosette had taken it — but they had a good laugh at it anyway. 

“Is that enough?” Cosette asked once they had finally settled down. 

“Wait a sec,” Marius said, “Do you have any pictures of your dad from the time we went to the beach with my family?”

“Probably, why?”

“Shirtless pics are always a plus.”

Cosette grimaced. “Ew!”

Marius shrugged. “What? He has good muscles. Remember how many women approached him?”

“I don’t want to remember,” she muttered.

“But I think it would help attract people to your father’s profile. Seriously.”

Cosette sighed. “You’re probably right. My dad works out a lot, so he’s pretty ripped. That’s sure to get him a date with someone.” 

They looked through the photo gallery one more time, and found a cute photo of Cosette’s father with one of Marius’s little cousins on his shoulders. He was smiling wide here, too— he really loved kids. 

“Well,” Cosette said, “Do you think we’re done now?”

“Give it a read-over,” answered Marius. 

“Okay!” Cosette cleared her throat. “‘Jean, 65.  Hello! I’m a papa bear looking for his honey. I enjoy fitness, gardening, and taking long walks- on the beach or otherwise. I’d love someone laid back and traditional who will come to church with me and eat my cooking.’”

“That’s so perfect. It sounds like a 65-year-old man wrote it,” said Marius. 

Cosette laughed. “Thanks! So shall we click ‘sign up’?”

“Of course.”

On the count of three, Cosette clicked the ‘sign up’ button, and after a short loading screen, Jean Fauchelevent was officially on ‘www.silversoulmates.com, the #1 50+ exclusive dating site in the world’’. The young couple cheered and high fived. 

Now came the waiting and hoping. 


	2. The Match

“Waiting and hoping”, it turned out, was also Inspector Javert’s motto when it came to online dating. He’d done six months of it already, and so far only one date had come out of it. It had been the most awkward, boring night of his life. The man — Bruno— had looked attractive in his photos, but that was because he’d used photos from at least two decades ago, from before hair loss and weight gain. Instead of the lean, curly-haired fellow with a sexy amount of stubble Javert had been promised, he met up with a balding, pot-bellied guy who smelled shockingly like sauerkraut. He gave Bruno a chance, however, which Javert soon regretted. They ate at a cheap restaurant with loud, obnoxious music that made Javert’s head hurt and food that was all the wrong texture. Bruno chewed with his mouth open and had an annoying laugh and talked exclusively about shit Javert had no interest in. To make it worse — as if it needed to be worse —  he kept making cop jokes and he showed far too much interest in Javert’s race.

“So where are you from?” Bruno had asked through a mouthful of a greasy burger.

“I was born and raised in this country,” Javert replied, shocked at the normal question.

“No, I mean, where are you _really_ from?”

Javert rolled his eyes. Oh. Never mind. “I am French. My parents are both French.”

“Are you, like… Indian? Like, you have long hair and all that.”

Javert pursed his lips. “My heritage is Romani.”

“But Romanians are white, I thought.”

Javert felt like he was about to explode. “Not Romanian, _Romani_. Bohemian.”

Bruno’s jaw dropped, exposing thoroughly-chewed burger. Javert almost wretched. “Man, that’s so cool! So… you’re like a gypsy? Do you live in an RV? Is your life like ‘My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding’?”

At that moment, Javert announced that he had to go, and he quickly left the restaurant.

“Wait, where are you going? I thought this was going great! Javert?” Bruno called to him.

Yeah. Sure.

As soon as he got home (which was an unmoving apartment, NOT an RV, thankyouverymuch), Javert blocked Bruno’s number (since he had already received a number of texts from the man, the last one being “fuck you you gypsy bitch you’re ugly anyways”). He also blocked the man’s SilverSoulmates profile and reported it for using misleading photos. That was just the right thing to do.

Since that harrowing experience, Javert had deleted the app from his phone and sworn off the site. He regretted making a profile in the first place. He had been celibate (save for a few drunken encounters and regrettable dates) all his fifty-three years. What made him think that should change now? Was he that lonely?

This evening, he was. He was so bored and so lonely that he went on silversoulmates.com for the first time since the whole Bruno debacle.

He sipped some red wine as he poked around. In almost two months, Javert had gathered a lot of new potential matches.

 **Pierre, 59** , read his screen. Pierre was a white man with short, salt-and-pepper hair. He wasn’t bad-looking, really. Javert reminded himself to lower his standards as he himself was nothing to look at.

 _Corporate lawyer living in Paris._ Ooh, a fellow man of the law! This looked promising. _I want someone to do naughty things to in exchange for being spoiled._ Hmm… having a sugar daddy didn’t sound too bad. Javert could get used to that. _Needs to be very discreet so that my wife doesn’t find out._ Ugh. Next.

 **Benjamin, 50** was the next man. He was a cute, perhaps Latino man who looked far under 50. Suspicious but intrigued, Javert looked at the bio.

_I’m actually 23. I’m here looking for an older man to spoil me ;)_

Javert sighed. He hoped Pierre and Benjamin would find each other.

 **Jean, 65**. Javert stared in awe at what had to be the only truly, completely attractive man he had ever seen on this site. He put his wine down to more closely inspect the picture. The man was outside, and there were mountains — the Alps? — behind him. He was smiling wide, his eyes squinted. There were deep crinkles around the corners of his eyes. He had fluffy grey-white hair and a beard, too. And he had light freckles over his nose and cheeks and forehead. He was very, very handsome. He looked like one of the example profiles on the signup page that gave Javert false expectations of the type of men he’d find on this site. Was this a bot? A catfish? Probably. But there was no harm in looking at “Jean’s” other pictures to see more of whatever attractive silver fox celebrity had been used in this profile.

The next photo featured “Jean” in a beautiful white suit. He stood next to an attractive woman in a wedding dress. Oh, no. Was this another married “straight” man looking for side action? Javert took a closer look at the bride. She couldn’t be over twenty-five, and this didn’t look like an old photo. He thought with relief that it was far more likely that this was his daughter. After all, they were standing side-by-side in the photo; it was far from romantic. However, if this “Jean” had a daughter… Oh, no. Was this another married “straight” man looking for side action? Javert sighed. Hopefully the guy was divorced or widowed or something. And not a catfish. The old man really looked handsome in this photo, too. His hair and beard were nicely trimmed and styled, and that suit looked great on him. Javert noticed the man’s body was quite built, and that the sleeves of his tailored suit hugged tightly at his arms. Javert took a sip of wine as he scrolled to the next photo.

The inspector nearly spat out his mouthful as he laid eyes on a hideous picture. It was a man — the same man, presumably — in dramatic makeup and horrendous women’s clothes, complete with a tangled blond wig. Based on the Halloween decor in the background of the photo, Javert surmised this “Jean” was merely goofing around and wasn’t a real drag queen. Not that he’d mind dating a drag queen— he just wanted a man who was skilled at what he did. Javert did, however, like the chest hair that wasn’t covered by Jean’s too-tight pink sequinned dress.

Javert was glad he wasn’t trying to drink his wine when he looked at the next photo. The man was at the beach with a kid on his shoulders, but Javert wouldn’t have cared if he was holding a dinosaur because Jean was _shirtless._ He had on only short pink swim shorts, sunglasses, and a beaming smile. The guy was ripped, truly— he had huge pecs and a six pack and defined biceps and chest hair and Javert almost forgot he ought to read Jean’s profile before clicking on the little green check mark at the bottom of the screen.

 _Hello! I’m a papa bear looking for his honey._ Javert cringed a little. This guy sure was a bear, though. _I enjoy fitness_ — “I can tell,” Javert whispered to himself — _gardening, and taking long walks- on the beach or otherwise. I’d love someone laid back and traditional who will come to church with me and eat my cooking._ Javert wasn’t sure he was traditional or laid back, nor did he, an atheist, want to go to church with anyone; but he was certainly willing to eat someone's cooking— provided it was something he liked, as picky as he was. Really, he was just glad this guy wasn’t looking for a sugar baby or someone he could hide from his wife. He was still quite certain that this was a catfish or a bot, but he figured he would soon find out if he got a message from “Jean” telling Javert  to meet him in an alleyway or buy his “herbal sexual performance enhancer”. Javert finished off his wine as he clicked the check mark. Here goes nothing.

 

***

 

Cosette was excited to log back in to SilverSoulmates the next morning, but she was absolutely _not_ expecting to have so many notifications.

“Marius! Oh my God, Marius!” She called to her husband.

“What is it, baby?” The man asked, thundering down the stairs, shaving cream covering half his face. “Is there a spider?”

“No! Forty-seven people have liked Papa’s profile!”

“You’re kidding me,” Marius said, rushing to where his wife was sitting at the computer. He leaned over and looked at the screen. Cosette’s cursor was pointing at the notification icon, beside which there was a little yellow box with the number 47. “Holy shit,” he muttered, “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

“I know, right?”

“It has to have been that shirtless picture.”

Cosette snorted. “Well, we can’t see who liked the profile unless we like them back. Shall we start looking for guys?”

Marius was still taken aback. He’d never had that many notifications when he had Tinder. “Sure, dear. Can I finish shaving first?”

“No,” Cosette said. “This is important. You can finish later.”

The young man sighed. “Fine. I’ll just go to the kitchen to wash my face.”

As Marius did so, Cosette went to the ‘find matches’ tab of the website. Since it was the first time she clicked on it, and this was a website geared towards seniors, it forced her to scroll through a little tutorial. Once this was done, Marius had returned.

“Okay, here’s contestant number one,” Cosette announced in an over dramatic voice, “Renaud, 67!”

Renaud was a chubby tan gentleman with grey hair and a moustache. He was smiling with yellowed teeth.

“Ew,” said Cosette.

“You’re looking for a man for your dad, not yourself,” Marius reminded as he pulled up a chair beside his wife.

“You’re right…” She looked at his bio and read it aloud: “‘I like gambling, drinking, and hunting—‘ Marius, Papa’s a Catholic vegetarian. This isn’t gonna work.”

Marius chuckled. “You’re right. Next.”

After Cosette clicked on the red ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, that profile disappeared and was replaced with: “Garreth, 51! Ooh, he’s not bad-looking at all!”

It was true– Garth– Garreth– looked like an average white middle-aged man, maybe even above average. He had on athletic gear, which could mean he was into fitness too.

“So our friend Garrett– uh, Garreth– says: ‘Namaste! I’m Garreth, yoga enthusiast and nature lover.’ Ooh! This sounds great! ‘I’m looking for a kind, open-hearted, fit man to join me on my journey of enlightenment.’ Okay, that’s Papa for sure!” Just as Cosette was getting her hopes up, she read the last part: “‘disclaimer: I’m actually 41 years old, but I have an old soul and I feel like I’m most attracted to older men.’” Cosette cringed. “Okay, that’s really weird. Right?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Marius agreed.

Cosette clicked the ‘x’ on this guy, too.

“Contestant number three: Bruno, 57!” Continued Cosette. “He’s kind of handsome!” she remarked.

“I feel like those pictures are kind of old…” Marius said. “Something tells me he doesn’t look like that anymore.”

Cosette shrugged, clicking to the other pictures. “Really? I mean, there are celebrities that look this good in their fifties!”

“Maybe we can give him the benefit of the doubt,” Marius said. “Let’s see that bio.” He decided to be the announcer this time: “‘Why does no one want a nice man like me anymore?! I do my best but guys always leave me anyway! I’m so done with dating. NO GYPSIES!’” Marius stopped, in awe of what he just read. “Uh… no.”

Cosette cackled. “Yeah, we are not trying to set my dad up with an incel.”

“A gay, racist incel,” Marius mused.

Feeling quite honestly deflated, Cosette clicked the ‘x’ harder than she’d clicked so far.

“Alright,” the young woman sighed. “‘Javert, 53’.” The man in the photo was a dark-skinned, dark-haired man with sunglasses on. He was wearing a police uniform and looked to be in the front of a cop car. “Ooh!” Cosette said, “A cop! That’s perfect for my straight-edge Papa! This man doesn’t look ugly, either.” Cosette tried to click to see the next picture, but there was only one. She looked at the bio: “‘Police Inspector. Workaholic. If you respect the law, I’ll respect you. Believe it or not, I do have a sense of humour. Please message me first. I like to avoid embarrassing myself.’” Cosette chuckled as she read this last line. “Hey, I kinda like this guy! No red flags in the bio, either!”

Marius agreed, nodding. “Yeah. Say yes to him!”

Cosette squealed a little as she clicked on the little check mark button. She and her husband were slightly startled by the colourful confetti animation that flashed across the screen. ‘Yay! It’s a match!’ It said, followed by a prompt to message Javert.

“Oh my God! Yay!” Cosette said, clapping.

“I suppose this gentleman was one of the forty-five or whatever men who liked your Papa’s profile,” Marius said.

Cosette chuckled and kissed her husband’s single shaved cheek. “Alright. You can go finish shaving now.”

Marius smiled. “I have been released from my matchmaking duties?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Thanks, ‘Sette!” Marius stood up and scampered away upstairs.

“See you, hun!”

Cosette turned back to the computer. After clicking through a pointless (for her, anyway) messaging tutorial, she went to Javert’s profile and composed a message.

> _Hello, Javert! How’s your Saturday morning? :)_

Send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot the reference to another one of my fics? :P
> 
> NO, it does NOT imply these two stories take place in the same universe. I just wanted to make a reference.


	3. The Surprise

Javert was working on his computer when it made a noise he hadn’t heard in a long while. It was the cutesy little “ping” of a notification from SilverSoulmates.com. With his luck, it was probably a prompt to purchase a subscription to SilverSoulmatesPlus. But he checked anyway. He logged onto his account.

To his absolute shock, it was a message. From Jean. The hot Jean. Way more excited than he’d like to admit, he clicked into the chat window. He read the message.

> _Hello, Javert! How’s your Saturday morning? :) (10:28 am)_

He stared in disbelief. That seemed… almost not like a catfish or bot message. It had his name in it and everything. He blinked several times, but the message was still there. Well. He supposed he ought to respond. Maybe whatever trick was being played would reveal itself soon.

> **Hello, Jean. It’s going quite well. How’s yours? (10:29 am)**

Javert sent the message before he could overthink it. Oh. The message was instantly marked with “seen 10:29 am”. Then the horrid little typing bubble appeared. How Javert hated that. He stared at it until it was suddenly replaced by a text bubble, accompanied by another little ‘ping’. Javert turned the volume down on his computer. He already knew he was getting notifications. This was just annoying.

> _I’m glad to hear that! And mine’s going very well, thanks! I just came back from the gym. Have you been up to much? (10:30 am)_

Of course he’d been to the gym. Javert blew a little air out of his nose in amusement. He considered lying and telling Jean he’d done something very impressive, but he settled on telling the truth.

> **Not really. I’ve just been catching up on some work. (10:30 am)**
> 
> _Oh, I hope I’m not distracting you from important inspector stuff! (10:31 am)_

Jean just referenced his bio. A bot wouldn’t do that. Would it? That seemed far too advanced.

> **No, not at all. This is my day off. Talking to you is a welcome break. (10:31 am)**

Javert blushed. Did he really just say that? Did that seem clingy? It probably seemed clingy. He wasn’t even sure Jean was real, and here he was, being clingy…

> _Awh, that’s sweet! :) (10:32 am)_
> 
> _I am happy to be chatting with you. I would hate to have to wait until you’re done working. (10:32 am)_

Javert stared at the two messages, blushing harder. Oh… Jean was sure a flatterer. He didn’t really know what to say in return. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever been called ‘sweet’ before.

> _Will you be free for the rest of the day? (10:33 am)_

Javert thought for a moment.

> **Yes. Why? (10:34 am)**

That stupid text bubble appeared and disappeared several times over.

> _I know we’ve only just started talking, but I’m quite old-fashioned and I’m not an online-chatting kind of a man at all. I’d love to meet up with you later today and get coffee or something. If you’re free and you’re okay with that, I mean. :) (10:35 am)_

Javert’s eyes widened and he blushed yet again. A date? Already?

> **So you want to take me out already? We don’t even know each other, Jean. (10:36 am)**
> 
> _Well, we can get to know each other in person. :) I find it’s a lot better than over a silly computer screen. But I won’t force you to accept. :) (10:37 am)_

Wow, this man used a lot of smiley faces. Javert wanted badly to say yes, but he still had doubts.

> **How do you know I’m real? How do I know you’re real? I honestly thought you were a bot at first, and I’m still not 100% convinced that you’re a real person. No one on this site is as good-looking as you. (10:38 am)**

Javert couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

> _Wow, that’s very kind of you to say! I could say the same about you. ;) (10:39 am)_
> 
> _So I suppose we’ll just have to have confidence that we’re both real people. We should meet somewhere really public and central, just in case you’re not who you say you are. Lol. :P (10:40 am)_
> 
> Javert felt there was nothing really to lose. He could end up disappointed, but he could also end up on a date with a handsome man with great muscles— and who was quite the flirt.
> 
> **Okay, Jean. You’ve twisted my arm. I’d love to get coffee with you. When and where shall we go? (10:41 am)**

 

***

 

Jean was in his garden, harvesting some vegetables and humming an upbeat song to himself. It had been a decent day so far; he’d had some breakfast, been to the gym, bought some new garden decorations (including a very funny gnome wearing a disco outfit), had lunch, and now he was gardening. It wasn’t as exciting as it had been before Cosette had gotten married, but that was to be expected. It was just how it went.

As if knowing Jean was thinking about her, Cosette called him just then. He felt the custom vibration and heard the custom ringtone — Run the World (Girls) by Beyoncé. Excitedly, Jean tossed his basket of carrots down and scrambled to get his iPhone out of the pocket of his dirty overalls.

“Hello?” He said as soon as he accepted the call and got the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Papa!” Came Cosette’s voice. Jean couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his daughter greeting him. “How are you?”

“I’m doing really well, Coco!” He said. “I’m in the garden right now. The carrots are looking so great. The beets too. Oh, and I bought some new garden decorations earlier, including the funniest little gnome—“

“—I’m sorry to cut you off, Papa,” said Cosette, “but I didn’t just call you to see how you’re doing. I have a surprise for you!”

Jean gasped. “A surprise! Ooh!”

“Yes, Papa! A big surprise. I hope you didn’t plan anything today.”

“Nothing as important as a ‘big surprise’ from my darling daughter!”

“Okay, good! I’m gonna need you to get dressed in your Sunday clothes and make yourself look nice. This is a bit of a fancy surprise!”

“A fancy surprise? It’s way too early for a nice dinner. Are we going to the theatre?”

“Why would I tell you? It’s a surprise!”

Jean chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. When should I be ready?”

“Would an hour work?”

Jean looked at his watch. It was almost 1:00. “Yes! So I should be ready at 2:00?”

“Yep! I’ll come pick you up.”

“Okay! Is that it, then?”

“Yeah, for now. I’ll see you then, Papa. Love you!”

“Love you too, Cosette! See you soon!”

Jean waited for his daughter to hang up, as he always did. When she hung up, he put the phone back in his pocket, smiling. This day was about to get a lot better, he felt it! He started planning what outfit he would wear — not that he had many, but there was still a choice to make. But first, he had to pick up his carrots.

 

***

 

At 1:59 pm, Jean heard his daughter pull up to his house. Nearly giddy with excitement, he got up from his spot on the couch and rushed to the door. He grabbed his keys and patted his pockets to make sure he still had his phone and his wallet— he did— and left his house, closing and locking the front door behind him. He rushed out to find Cosette’s pink Jeep sitting in the driveway. Jean waved. He saw Cosette and Marius wave back. He supposed he would be confined to the back seat, then.

“Hello Cosette! Hello Marius!” He said cheerfully, sliding into the back seat. The two greeted him back. “You didn’t tell me Marius would be here!” Jean remarked to his daughter.

“There are lots of things I didn’t tell you,” said Cosette, looking at him over her shoulder.

The old man chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. Well, do I seem ready? All I have is my phone and my wallet.”

“That should be all you need. And you look lovely, Papa!”

Jean smiled. “Thank you!” He put on his seatbelt, now that he knew he didn’t need to return to the house to get something.

Cosette pulled out of the driveway, and they were on their way.

“Do I get any more clues as to what’s going on?” Asked Jean.

“Nope! Not yet, at least,” said Cosette.

“She’ll tell you everything you need to know when we get there,” Marius assured him.

“‘Everything I need to know’?! Are you sending me on some kind of mission?”

Cosette laughed. “No, Papa. It’s not a mission at all. It’ll be tons of fun!”

Jean smiled. “I’m excited!” He said. “I don’t remember the last time you gave me a big surprise like this! I think it may have been when you told me that you and Marius were engaged.” Jean thought for a moment and suddenly gasped. “Cosette… are you going to announce that you’re pregnant?!”

She and Marius laughed. “No, Papa! I’m not pregnant.”

Jean was a tiny bit disappointed. “Oh, okay. I would be so happy if you were, though.”

“I’m sure you would be. In time, okay?”

“A baby is certainly in our future plans,” Marius assured him.

Jean’s face lit up. “Really?! Oh my goodness! How soon? Next year?”

“Babe, you got him too excited!” Cosette chided softly.

“No, not next year,” Marius said in an effort to calm down the older man. “There are too many things that need to be settled. But eventually.”

Jean nodded. “I understand. Do you promise, though? That I will have a grandchild?”

“Papa—“

“I don’t know if I can make that promise,” Marius jumped in. “I mean, there are so many things that could go wrong… But I can promise you that I want Cosette and I to be parents as much as you do.”

Jean smiled. “Okay. I like that promise. Very reasonable.”

“I promise that too, Papa,” Cosette said.

“I’m glad.”

The old man looked out the window, smiling wistfully as he thought about having a grandchild. He loved children so very much, and he could not wait to babysit and buy gifts and read stories and bake treats and be the best grandpa he could be…

“Anyway,” said Cosette after a minute or so, “we’re here.”

Jean perked up. “We are?” He looked around for some kind of fancy place, but they were just outside their local Starbucks. “You made me dress up for Starbucks?”

“Not just Starbucks, Papa,” laughed Cosette. “You’ll see.” She parked the car and turned off the engine. “Come on, let’s go!” She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door, so Jean did the same. After the two of them were out of the car and standing next to it, he realized that Marius was still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Is Marius not coming?” He asked.

“He’s just going to stay in the car for a little. Again, you’ll see, Papa! Trust me.”

“Uh… Okay.”

The two of them walked into Starbucks. Cosette instructed her father to sit at a booth by the window while she got them drinks, and no, she wanted to pay because this was her treat, and yes, she was sure.

Jean was getting a little nervous. This was becoming a little strange. He hoped he’d get answers soon.

When Cosette came back with two Frappuccinos and sat across from him, he asked: “Will you tell me what’s going on now?”

The blonde was grinning. “Yes. Get out your phone.” She had hers in her hands, and was already pulling something up.

Confused, Jean fished his phone out of the pocket of his pants. “Okay.”

“Alright. I’ve sent you your surprise.”

The older man opened his text conversation with his daughter and waited. In a moment, a picture showed up on his screen. “A police officer?” He asked, even more puzzled.

“He is your date for today!”

Jean turned pale. “M-my what?”

“Your date! You’ve been so lonely since I moved out and I know you’re a total hopeless romantic and I want you to find someone but you refuse to do it yourself, so I made you a profile on a dating site for people over fifty and I found you a really nice man who is a cop named Javert and he’s coming to this Starbucks at 2:30!”

Jean blinked once, twice. “2:30?” Then he looked at his phone screen. “It’s 2:15.”

“Yep!” Cosette said, grinning. “So you’ve got fifteen minutes to prepare yourself!”

He looked up at her. “Wait… You made me a dating profile?! And you got me a date?! How— Why— Cosette, that’s —- That’s just unacceptable! I didn’t give you permission to do this! This is —“

Cosette finally frowned. “Papa, I love you. And I’ve noticed that since I moved out, you haven’t been the same. You’ve been lonely, Papa. I really, really think that you should try to find someone.”

“So you made me an online dating profile…?”

Cosette nodded. “It worked, though. I found you a nice man your age who is kind of good-looking and seems to have values like yours.”

Jean had so much to say about how this was wrong, about how this was identity theft and how she impersonated him and how this was the most out-of-line thing she had ever done and how he was very disappointed in her and how he couldn’t believe she’d do such a thing. But at the moment, there were much more pressing matters. There was a man arriving in under fifteen minutes who believed he was on a date with him. “I can’t do this, Cosette. I can’t be on a date with someone— I haven’t been on a date since— since— I don’t know. And it’s not fair for this man, either! He’s wasting his time! And he probably got his hopes up and they’re just going to be dashed. What am I supposed to do?”

“Papa…” Cosette smiled and touched her hand to his. “You can do this. You’re friendly and funny and smart and have great stories. And this man thinks you’re very handsome. You most certainly can sit here and talk to him.”

Despite himself, Jean blushed. “He thinks I’m… handsome?”

“Yes! And you are!”

“I… uh…” Jean looked down at his phone. He couldn’t see much of the man in the photo. He was wearing sunglasses. But he had smooth-looking tan skin and sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. He was attractive. “Um…”

“Seriously.” Cosette squeezed his hand. “I really think this’ll be fun. I know it’s scary, but it will go fine. And if something does go wrong, you can end it! It’s no biggie. Marius and I will be at the ice cream place down the street if you need us.”

Jean swallowed thickly. “Uh…” It was almost 2:20. The guy might already be on his way. He looked at Cosette, with her bright green eyes and her innocent smile. He couldn't be mad at her, really. She was right, anyway, about him being lonely. And about him being a hopeless romantic. He did secretly want to find a man and court him and be sappy and finally have a first kiss in the moonlight or in the rain… Maybe— just maybe — this would work out. And if it didn’t… Perhaps he could have a new friend.

“Please, Papa. Do it for me.”

He could not say no to his little girl. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’re going to have to talk later, but okay. I’ll stay and meet this man.”

Cosette squealed as quietly as she could manage, breaking into a huge smile. “Thank you. Papa! I knew you would do it!”

Jean smiled back nervously. “I, uh, don’t think it’ll go well. I’m not prepared. I know nothing about this man.”

“That’s why I sent you a screenshot of his profile! You can look at his picture and read his bio. And then you’ll know about as much about him as he knows about you! The whole point of a first date is to get to know each other!”

The older man licked his lips. “Okay.”

“One more thing,” Cosette said, “Please don’t mention that I was the one who set this whole thing up.”

Jean nodded. That made sense. It would make it far more awkward than it had to be if he brought that up. “Okay. I won’t.”

His daughter grinned. “Thank you so, so much, Papa! I love you!” She grabbed her Frappuccino and started to stand up.

“Cosette? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah! Your date will be here pretty soon!” After she was standing, Cosette walked up to her father. “I believe in you, Papa. Don’t be so scared. Text me if you need anything, alright?”

Cosette sounded like Jean remembered himself before Cosette’s first ever date when she was in high school. He smiled at the memory. “Okay, Coco.”

She smiled and started walking out of the Starbucks. “See you later, Papa!”

“Bye, dear!” Answered Jean.

And just like that, she was gone.

That made Jean far, far more nervous. He looked at his phone. 2:24. This was ridiculous. He looked again at the handsome man on his phone screen.

The _cop._

What Cosette didn’t know— what she could never, _ever_ know — was that Jean was an ex-convict.

He had served his time, sure, but still… He was always so nervous around police officers. And now he was about to be on a date with one. One particular line stood out in this Javert’s bio: “ _if you respect the law, I’ll respect you.”_ It stressed Jean out. Now, he lived by the law, yes, but he didn’t always.

Jean took a big sip of his yet untouched Frappuccino. The sweetness and the caffeine hit him at once. He was sweating, and his heart was beating a million miles an hour. He felt like a panic attack wasn’t totally out of the question.

Jean looked down at his phone. He didn’t notice that the door to the Starbucks swung open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cosette is quite the flirt on Jean’s behalf.


	4. The Date

It was 2:29 pm. Javert was wearing black jeans and a grey button-up shirt with a black leather jacket. His hair was in a low ponytail. He entered the Starbucks, so nervous he was almost calm. He looked around. 

At a booth by the window, an old white man sat alone. A very handsome man whose shoulders and upper arms stretched the fabric of his burgundy button-up shirt. It had to be Jean. The man was staring at his phone and didn’t notice him, so Javert chose to approach him.

He came up to the man’s table. “Excuse me—“ Javert said.

The man was so startled that he dropped his phone onto the table with a little cry of shock. “Oh, I’m so sorry— Y-you scared me,” he laughed nervously.

“Evidently,” Javert said. “I’m sorry. You’re Jean, correct?”

He smiled awkwardly. ‘Yes, that’s me! You must be Javert.”

“I am,” Javert replied. He extended his hand, which Jean stared at for a moment before shaking with a large, warm, clammy hand. 

“Lovely to meet you, Inspector.”

“No need to call me Inspector,” Javert replied. He pulled his hand away and wiped it casually on his pants.

“Right, of course, sorry! This is a date, so it would be pretty weird to call you by your rank the whole time!” Jean laughed nervously again.

Javert nodded. “Indeed.” After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “Well, I am going to order, now.”

“Oh, would you like me to come with you?”

“I am perfectly capable of doing that myself,” Javert said, a little more snappily than he intended.

Jean blushed. “Yes, of course, I meant to pay for you! Is that… would you like that?”

Javert blushed in return. Of course that was what Jean meant; why did he reply so rudely? “Oh, no, it’s alright. Thank you for offering, but I will pay for myself. Don’t worry.” Javert gave him an awkward smile and left to the counter to order. 

God above, Javert thought, this was going horribly. He’d scared the guy AND been accidentally rude to him. And it had only been a couple minutes. Jean was so handsome and he was so nervous… Javert hated himself for how he was ruining this date.

 

***

 

God above, Jean thought, this was going horribly. He’d been scared by the guy AND been accidentally rude to him. And it had only been a couple minutes. Javert was so  handsome and he was so nervous… Jean hated himself for how he was ruining this date.

He watched as the other man ordered. He was far more good-looking in real life than Jean could have possibly imagined. Javert was tall and thin and had piercing blue eyes. He also had a long, dark brown ponytail that almost reached his rear end, and the hair looked very well-kept and healthy. Jean took a sip of his drink. He wondered if Javert would allow him to braid it, if they were in a relationship, with ribbons to decorate the beautiful locks. Jean thought of himself running his fingers through the smooth, stick-straight hair, kissing the top of the Inspector’s head…

“I’m back,” Javert announced, forcing Jean out of his reverie. Jean blushed at his secret thoughts. 

“What did you get?” Jean asked as the man as he slid into his seat across the table.

“Just black coffee,” Javert said.

“You take your coffee black? Wow. I’m impressed. I can’t drink anything with coffee unless it’s got sugar.”

Javert noticeably eyed Jean’s Frappuccino. “Yes, I can tell.”

Jean chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve got a sweet tooth. Or more like a whole set of ‘em.”

Javert smirked. “Really? But you’re so health-conscious.”

The older man shrugged. “I, uh… Thanks?”

Was that even a compliment? Was he even meant to say thanks to that? Jean took a long sip of his drink so he didn’t have to talk for a bit. 

“So…” Javert started. His voice was nice and deep, which Jean liked. He’d always liked deep voices. “You mentioned you went to the gym this morning. Have you been doing anything else?”

Jean supposed Cosette knew his routine enough to know that’s what he’d been up to. He nodded. “Yes! I went to the gardening store. I meant to only get stuff for my vines to grow on, but I kind of went on a tangent and I got some really cute garden decorations, too!” Jean pulled out his phone and quickly clicked away from the screenshot of Javert’s profile. He looked through his photo gallery until he found a picture of the six simple fairy figurines he’d bought earlier. He gave his phone to the other man. “Aren’t they sweet?”

Javert looked at them for a moment. “They’re… pretty gay.”

Jean blushed. They were glittery, and there was one for each colour of the rainbows. He giggled awkwardly. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty gay.” 

The other man smirked a little. Jean liked his smirk. Javert handed the phone back.

“I bought something even better…” He scrolled a bit through his image gallery. “Aha!” He showed his date the screen. “Here’s my little disco gnome!”

Javert didn’t look as impressed as Jean had hoped he would be. The man did, however, smile a little. “I… like him. That’s pretty funny.” Javert took a sip of his coffee. 

“Yeah, I thought he was hilarious! I named him Bruno,” Jean said. 

Javert choked on his coffee. 

“You okay, Javert?” He asked with genuine concern. “I know CPR.”

Javert waved his hand in dismissal, coughing. “No, don’t worry about it. Just… went down the wrong way,” he sputtered.

Jean nodded. “Okay. If you like gnomes, I have a whole family!” Again, he looked through his phone. Once he found the picture — and Javert found his ability to breathe — he showed it to the other man. “So in the back we’ve got great-grandpa Charles, Grandma Jeanne, and Grandpa Jean. The mom here is also named Jeanne. Her children are Clarence, Benoit, Margarite, Joseph, Louise, Camille, and Simon. There’s an uncle here named Jehan, and a little boy named Gervais. There’s also the aunt Fantine and her daughter, Euphrasie. Bruno, the disco guy, is… the family friend, I guess? I’m not sure.”

Javert stared at the phone in awe. “Wow… That’s a large gnome family.”

“Yeah, I’m quite proud of them.”

“Do you just like gnomes that much, or…”

“Well, yes, but… They’re all named after my family, and other people who have been important in my life. Charles is the name of an old… mentor of mine. Jean and Jeanne were my parents. Jeanne was the name of my sister, and Jehan was my brother. Yes, I know. We’re all named the same. All the gnome children are named after my sister’s kids, except Gervais; he was a child I met once who changed my life. Fantine is my daughter’s mother, and Euphrasie was my daughter’s name before it was legally changed to Cosette. Bruno is the first gnome I’ve bought who isn’t named after anyone. I just thought he was funny.”

Jean realized he had been talking nonstop for quite awhile. He looked up at Javert. “Sorry. I’m telling you way too much.”

Javert shook his head. “No, it’s… It’s fine, Jean. Are all those people dead?”

Jean was silent for a moment. “Most of them, yes. I don’t know about the children. I’ve been completely estranged from my family. My daughter — Thank God — is alive and well.”

“I’m sorry. I understand. Much of my family is dead as well, and I am not in contact with the rest of them,” said Javert.

The mood had been turned very heavy. The older man nodded a little. “Well. At least we understand each other on that front.”

There was a brief silence. “May I ask about your daughter?” Javert interjected.

Jean nodded. “Of course!”

“Was she the young blonde woman in one of the pictures on your profile? She was wearing a wedding dress and you were in a white suit.”

Ah, yes. The profile. Thankfully, he didn’t need to see the picture to know how to answer Javert. “Yes, that’s her.”

“I see. She’s beautiful.”

Jean beamed with pride. “Isn’t she?”

“She must have gotten her good looks from you,” said Javert before taking a sip of his coffee. 

The older man turned bright red. “Oh… uh… Thanks, but… She isn’t blood related to me. I adopted her after her birth mother passed away. Her biological father had abandoned them both, so poor Cosette was living with family friends who turned out to be abusive… Anyway, long story short, I adopted her when she was six years old, and she’s been safe with me ever since. She’s twenty-four now— she just got married and moved out. She’s finishing college, too.”

“I see,” Javert said. “I’m glad she ended up with a good father.”

Valjean smiled. “I’m happy I could be a good father to her. Anyway… Enough about me and my family. I’ve been blathering on for too long. Tell me about yourself, Javert! Do you have any children?”

Javert scoffed. “No way. I’m not the kind of person to have children.”

Jean was actually hoping the other man did have kids — or even grandkids — that he could meet, so he was a little disappointed. But perhaps it was simpler this way. There would be no awkward introductions or family members preferring Javert’s ex spouse or nonsense like that. “Fair enough. And you said you have lost touch with your family?”

He nodded. “Yes. But it’s for the best. I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“It’s okay; you don't have to tell me everything. It’s just our first date, after all,” Jean said. He realized it sounded like he was expecting a second date… What if Javert didn’t want a second date? What if Javert thought this was going horribly? It probably was. Jean took another sip of his Frap. “So, like… Where are you from, Javert?”

The other man looked almost disappointed. “I’m from France.”

“But… What city? Where were you born?”

Now he looked a little relieved. Why did these questions affect him so? “Oh… I thought you were about to ask ‘where I’m  _ really  _ from’,” Javert scoffed. “I was born in Paris. In Fleury-Mérogis.”

“Ah, so you’re from the suburbs?” Jean asked. 

Javert nodded, sipping his coffee.

“I was born in Faverolles. Do you know where that is? It’s tiny.”

Javert squinted in thought. “Yes, I believe so. I’ve never been there, but it’s in northern France, correct?”

The older man smiled. “Yes, that’s it! I’ve lived all around France, but I think I’ve liked Paris the most.”

“I’ve never lived outside Paris. Travelled, yes, but I’ve only ever lived here.”

Jean tilted his head. “Wow! That’s interesting.”

The other man just nodded a little. The conversation was dying down, and Jean felt powerless to do anything. What could he say? He had no idea what to do...

“I must say,” Javert muttered lowly, “You were far more forward online.”

Jean blushed.  _ Forward?!  _ “I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand…”

Javert shrugged. “You seemed… More flirty. I don’t know. Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just so nervous… I haven’t really ever been on a date like this before…” Jean admitted.

Javert’s eyebrows raised. “Really? Online you seemed like an expert. Almost like… Like a different person.”

Jean turned tomato red. He’d promised Cosette, but… He couldn’t carry on pretending. And he needed to know what Cosette had said to this poor man. “I-I’m so sorry, Javert, but… Well, I was a different person. My—“ He swallowed. “My daughter was fed up with me being alone, so she made an online dating profile for me and set up a date with you on my behalf. I had absolutely no idea what was going on… She told me to put on my Sunday clothes and then she brought me here and dropped the news to me and there was no time left for me to say no, and… Yeah.” Jean’s heart was thumping. This was bad.

Javert had a blank look in his eyes. His eyebrows were still raised, but they began slowly descending. “So… Online, I was talking to… Your twenty-four-year-old daughter, pretending to be you, her sixty-five-year old father.”

Jean nodded. “Yes. And I’m so sorry. I will be giving her a stern talk about this and—“

His second rant was cut short as Javert threw his head back and started laughing; cackling, almost. He laughed so loudly that various other Starbucks patrons stopped what they were doing to see what all was going on. 

“Javert—“

The man’s laughter soon turned to wheezing, and then became almost silent. He drooped over forwards and flapped his hand against the table a couple times. Once he finally caught his breath, he had a huge smile on his face. “Sorry. That’s hilarious. I hope you know that’s absolutely hysterical.”

Jean blushed, feeling awkward and confused. “It’s… I… You’re not upset?”

Javert shook his head. “No, not at all.”

“You don’t want to leave?”

“Why would I want that?”

“I’m… I’m obviously not what my daughter made me out to be.”

Javert laughed again; thankfully more quietly. This laugh was kind of attractive. More than kind of. “No, not really. But… But that’s fine.”

Jean smiled a bit. “I’m glad. Also… I do think you’re attractive, by the way. Although I wouldn’t have organized this date myself, I’m far happier to be forced on a date with you than…” he didn’t know how to finish. “... someone… Worse.” He frowned. That didn’t sound great. “Not that you’re, like, near the bottom or anything. You’re probably at the top.” Did that sound like he was too into Javert? “I’m not in love with you or anything, like I’m not saying you’re the one — I mean, you could be; time will tell —“

Jean was cut off as he felt Javert tap his hand. “Please stop talking,” he muttered. “I understood what you were trying to say many words ago.”

Jean blushed heavily. “Oh… sorry,” he whispered. 

“It’s okay.”

Jean sipped his drink again. “Uh, Javert, if you don’t mind, may I see… The profile my daughter made for me?”

Javert grinned, his gums showing as well as teeth. He had dimples when he smiled, Jean noticed. “Of course.”

Javert stood up and brought himself and his coffee to Jean’s side of the table. Jean scooted over so the other man had space to sit beside him. There was enough space for the both of them, but they were close enough that Jean could feel the heat emanating from the other man. And that jacket smelled like real leather, which would make Jean a little sad if he was being picky, but he really wasn’t. Not with a man this attractive who was still interested in him after finding out his online dating profile was made by his daughter.

Javert got out his phone and navigated to the SilverSoulmates app. He quickly found Jean’s profile and handed his phone to the other man with a muttered “here”.

The older man checked the screen of Javert’s older Samsung phone. There was a nice picture of him— it looked like it was from his trip with Cosette to the Alps. “Looks like Cosette chose a picture quite well!”

“Wait, there are more,” Javert prompted. He was looking over Jean’s shoulder — or more his head, because of their height difference.

Jean scrolled. The next one was the picture Javert had referenced; the one from Cosette and Marius’s wedding. “That’s a lovely picture, too,” he muttered as he went to the next picture. Oh. 

“Why… Why would she choose that one?” He asked of the one of him in his crazy Halloween costume from several years ago. He rubbed his forehead and blushed profusely.

Javert was cackling into his ear. “It’s so ugly. I love it.”

“It’s so embarrassing…” the older man groaned and swiped to the next one.  _ Oh.  _ This wasn’t another humiliating picture, at least, but he was shirtless. His eyes widened and he turned off Javert’s phone in panic. “Oh, my…”

“What?” Javert asked. “That was a great picture of you.”

“Yes, but… I wasn’t wearing a shirt!”

“You didn’t mind being without a shirt when that picture was taken,” Javert pointed out.

“That’s normal at the beach!”

“I think it’s normal on a dating site, as well. Especially for someone who looks as good shirtless as you do.” Javert seemed too close to Jean’s ear, and his voice was very nearly a grumble. Jean’s stomach sank and his cheeks burned. 

“Uh…” Jean tried. He had to clear his throat. “Thanks?”

“It’s just the truth,” said Javert.

“Sorry, but can you please unlock your phone again so I can read my bio?” Jean asked, pushing the phone towards the other man.

The inspector chuckled. “Sure, no problem.”

As he was doing so, Jean took another big sip of his Frap.

“There you are,” muttered Javert, sliding his device back to his date. 

Jean picked it up and read his bio. He could only read the first line —  _ Hello! I’m a papa bear looking for his honey —  _ before slapping his forehead into his hand. “Lord above…” Jean said, starting to laugh.

“That opening line is extraordinarily cringeworthy,” Javert said against his coffee cup before taking a sip.

“It is kind of clever, I have to admit. It’s almost like something I would say.”

Javert raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Not in this context, though. Definitely not in this context.” 

Jean skimmed the rest of the short paragraph. “This stuff is all true, though. I do enjoy those things, and that is what I suppose I’m looking for.”

“Now read our conversation,” Javert urged.

Nervously, he did so. Thankfully, the conversation was short enough that he could read it quickly and realize Cosette didn’t say anything completely scandalous on his behalf. He did blush quite a few times, though. It was much flirtier a conversation that he’d ever be able to pull off.

“This isn’t as bad as I’d feared,” Jean concluded. “She didn’t say anything… untoward.”

Javert laughed lightly. “Yes. And it’s a good thing, too. I might have said something inappropriate back to your poor daughter.” 

Jean blushed yet again. He chose to ignore that comment. “Javert, is it true that no one on that site is as attractive to you as I am?” He asked quietly.

It was Javert’s turn to blush. “Well… Yes. It is true. But you must agree. You’ve seen the men on SilverSoulmates.”

“I haven’t, actually,” Jean reminded.

“Right. Well, they’re all ugly. Compared to those men, you look more like a catfishing attempt than a real man looking for love.”

“Was my profile technically a catfishing attempt?”

Javert chuckled. “I suppose it was, in a way. I knew there was something up with your profile. I knew my work as a police inspector would amount to something.”

Right. Jean had almost forgotten Javert was with the police. He found it much less of a concern now, though. He even managed a little laugh. “Indeed.”

“Well,” Javert put his phone back in his pocket. “Now you know what your daughter whipped up.”

“I do. I must admit, she did pretty well. I’m still going to give her a serious talk about it, though.”

Javert hummed. He was still so close to Jean. The older man leaned away as nonchalantly as he could to continue sipping his drink.

They sat in silence for a short while. Jean looked out the window. He didn't know where Javert was looking. He heard Javert tapping softly on the table. It could have been annoying, Jean thought, except it wasn’t, really. Every so often, the tapping would stop, and Javert would pick up his coffee and swallow. After he set the cup back on the table, the tapping would resume. Jean smiled a little to himself. They weren’t saying anything, but it was nice. It was actually far less awkward to be silent than it was when they were talking. He suspected Javert was an introvert at heart, just like him. 

Soon enough, Jean had finished his drink. He looked at his watch. It was 3:34. That was a little hard to believe. He looked back at Javert; to his surprise, the other man was already looking at him. 

Jean smirked. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Javert replied. 

“I’m done. Are you?”

“Done what? With this date?”

“No, with your drink.”

“Oh. Yes, I am.” 

“Are you done with the date too, though? I won’t be offended if you’d like to leave.”

“No. I want to stay with you longer.”

Jean smiled. He liked Javert’s straightforwardness. “I want to stay with you longer, as well.”

Javert flashed a bigger smile— one that showed his dimples — very briefly, before settling on a little smirk. “Good. I’m happy about that.”

“Would you like to, uh… Go for a walk with me?”

“Yes, I would like that very much.”


	5. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m not one to believe in luck at all, but I think this story is actually a good omen. Last week, I saw a very attractive stranger in public, I talked to him, and he actually gave me his number!! We have been on one date and are planning to see each other again very soon. He actually makes me feel almost as strongly as Valjean does about Javert in this chapter, which I wrote most of before I even met the guy.
> 
> Anyway, I should also apologize for having not touched this fic in quite a while. School started up, and I am dealing with that and a possible new relationship. Don’t expect updates super regularly, but I promise, I will not drop this! I am just as excited about the fic as you are. Actually, more excited, for sure.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has read, commented on, left kudos on, or even accidentally clicked on this fic. It all means so much to me. :)
> 
> One more thing: this chapter is slightly NSFW (though I hope no one is on AO3 at work anyway) because of who my Javert is as a person, but it’s FAR from being smut.

Jean was ecstatic — almost giddy — when he got back to his place. He didn’t even take off his shoes after locking the door behind him. He just flopped on the couch with a sigh that turned into a giggle. Oh, he was so happy! He was so happy and he hadn’t been this kind of happy in so very long. He had a massive grin, and no matter how tired his face muscles were getting, he wasn’t about to stop smiling.

Javert. Javert, Javert, Javert… it was as if his mind was filled suddenly with glowing neon signs that read that name: Javert. Jean giggled again.

The date had gotten off to a rough start, of course, but as it went on, it got so much better. He and Javert had walked around the streets, having easy banter about nothing in particular. Sometimes they would be silent, too, and that was alright. It was more than alright. The silence was just as comfortable as the conversation.

Jean giggled yet again as he remembered how sometimes their arms would brush and bump as they walked next to each other, side by side. He had wanted to hold hands with the other man, but that would have been much too forward for a first date.

They had walked a long while. Javert said, as they sat down on a bench, that they were very near to his place. Javert had given him a look, then, that made Jean blush.

“You want me to… go home with you?”

Javert nodded, and Jean imagined the two of them seated on a couch, laughing together. What if Javert leaned over to put his arm around Jean’s shoulders? He feared he wouldn’t want to tell the man to stop. Now that would be _way_ too far for the first date!

“I, uh… I think that’s a little… Maybe not yet.”

Javert looked disappointed. “Okay.”

“In fact, I should probably head home soon…”

The other man frowned. “Oh…”

“—But I had a great time!” Jean was quick to interject. “I really had fun today.”

Now Javert was smirking a bit. Jean much preferred this kind of expression, and was very glad he was able to bring it back. “Me too,” he answered.

Now was the big moment, which made Jean smile even wider as he recollected it.

Jean had been blushing as he fumbled through his words: “Would you, uh… I mean, I really would like to… Do this again. Like… Not the same stuff, but… I’d love to take you out again. On another date. If you want.”

Javert smiled big, showcasing those adorable dimples.  “Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

They’d exchanged phone numbers, then, and before they parted, they hugged! Jean closed his eyes as he recalled how wonderful it had felt to hold Javert’s body against  his own for those three seconds (he’d counted) until Jean felt he ought to let go. It was amazing.

He had been living in that feeling as he Ubered home, as he left said Uber a massive tip, and now as he was on the couch. He hadn’t even noticed that he had been hugging a pillow to his chest this whole time. He hugged it closer. What an amazing date it had been.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated — Javert? But no, he heard the Beyoncé ringtone as well and realized it was only Cosette. Wait, Cosette… He hadn’t called her yet! And it had been hours! He rushed to pull his phone out.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Papa!” Cosette practically yelled from the other end. “You’re alive! You realize it’s been more than FOUR HOURS since I dropped you off?”

“Really?! It’s been that long? It didn’t feel like it at all…”

“Well it has been! And I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to call me and tell me all about your date! How was it?!”

Jean giggled and held the pillow even tighter. “Oh my goodness, Coco, it was so great! I haven’t stopped grinning since Javert and I parted ways. But I miss him already…”

Cosette squealed on the other end, and Jean allowed himself to join in. “Yes! I knew it!” Cosette said. “Is there gonna be a second date?”

“Yes!” Jean answered excitedly, setting off another squeal.

“Oh my God, Papa! I’m so happy for you! Tell me everything!”

Jean quickly launched into indeed telling his daughter everything, except the part where he did exactly what he promised Cosette he wouldn’t do.

The whole time, he couldn’t help but wonder what Javert was up to. Was he thinking about Jean? Was he as happy as Jean was? He hoped so.

 

***

 

Javert was standing over the sink when he heard his phone buzz. He looked over, and it was a text from Jean. How nice. He had mentioned to Jean that he preferred texting over calling, and was glad that the other man cared to remember.

> _Hey, Javert! :),_ the text read, _Just wanted to say hi. I had so much fun earlier :) (6:43 pm)_

Javert realized that Cosette’s overuse of smiley faces while she pretended to be Jean was perhaps accurate. That was amusing, and drew a chuckle from Javert.

> **Hello, Jean. I had a lot of fun today, too. (6:44 pm)**
> 
> _What are you up to? (6:44 pm)_

Javert looked into the sink at the 8-inch, flesh-coloured dildo he was currently washing.

> **Just doing some cleaning. (6:45 pm)**
> 
> _Very responsible of you! :) (6:46 pm)_
> 
> _I have been meaning to do some chores but I just can’t get my mind to focus (6:47 pm)_
> 
> _I’ve just been thinking about you :P (6:47 pm)_

Javert smiled a bit at the screen. He didn’t really know what to say. He’d never been told something so sweet in his whole life, and he really hadn’t known he’d wanted to be talked to this way until it was happening. His fingers hovered confusedly over the keyboard. Javert turned off the sink and watched his dildo float around in the hot, soapy water.

> **I’ve been thinking about you, too. (6:49 pm)**
> 
> _:D (6:49 pm)_

Javert exhaled loudly through his nose. He’d been thinking a lot of Jean, for sure. He’d been thinking of little else since he got home. It had been only Jean on his mind when he had been in bed with his toy, doing to himself what Jean wasn’t willing to do to him.

> _I hope you don’t mind that I told Cosette all about the date… :P (6:53 pm)_

Javert chuckled to himself.

> **Of course not. Have you given her that stern chat yet? (6:54 pm)**
> 
> _I guess I kind of forgot to do that… (6:55 pm)_
> 
> _I’m still going to. I just haven’t yet. I’ve been in too good of a mood xD (6:55 pm)_
> 
> _Besides, I had her delete the profile. No one else will ever see that humiliating picture of me in drag! :P (6:56 pm)_

Javert was thankful he had screenshotted the other photos— especially the shirtless one — from Jean’s profile. He wouldn’t be able to handle never seeing that one again. He also the implications of Valjean’s decision to delete the profile... The older man must have really liked Javert and felt he had no need to meet other men.

> **Ah, good! That was a questionable picture, for sure. (6:57 pm)**

A long moment passed without a text from Jean, so Javert figured the conversation was over. He sighed and put his phone down, then pulled the plug on the sink. As the soapy water drained out, he rinsed his dildo, then dried it, then finally went to put it back with the rest of his collection, which he re-organized, just for fun.

He went to make himself a microwaved meal, but checked his phone a few minutes later out of impulse, and realized he did have more texts from Jean.

> _But all in all, I’m glad my daughter made that profile. Even though that was not a good thing of her to do, I really believe that everything happens for a reason, and she did that so I could meet you. And I’m super super happy that I met you. I know we’ve only known each other for a day, but you’re amazing and you’re special to me already, Javert. Today has been my favourite day in a while and I’m so looking forward to seeing you again. :) (7:03 pm)_
> 
> _I’m sorry, was that too much? (7:07 pm)_
> 
> _Javert? (7:10 pm)_

Oh, no… his dallying had made Jean believe he’d done something wrong. Quickly, he typed a response.

> **Sorry, Jean. I stepped away from my phone to finish my cleaning. I didn’t notice you texted me until just now. No, it’s not too much. (7:14 pm)**
> 
> **I don’t believe in fate, but I feel similarly. I really feel connected to you as well, even though we’ve just had one date. Today was absolutely wonderful and I cannot wait to see you again. (7:15 pm)**

Jean responded right away.

> _Oh, good! ‘:D (7:15 pm)_
> 
> _Sorry, I have anxiety and I tend to think the worst when things like that happen! Thanks for the reassurance. :) (7:16 pm)_
> 
> **It’s no problem, Jean. I’m sorry for worrying you. (7:16 pm)**
> 
> _No, it’s alright! Not your fault. :) (7:17 pm)_
> 
> _Anyway, I’m going to make dinner now. I’m so happy to know that you and I are on the same page with this. :D Bye Javert! Ttyl! :) (7:18 pm)_
> 
> **I’m happy, too. Talk to you later, Jean. (7:19 pm)**

He could not believe that he was being this sappy. He was never sappy. Though, he realized, he had never had anything to be sappy about until now. All his previous attempts at romantic relationships — if they were even worthy of the terms “romantic” or “relationship” — had been pathetic. None of those men had been as attractive to Javert, both in appearance and in personality, as Jean.

There was just that small problem of him being so… pure. They had hardly made physical contact on the date, and every time Javert tried to move in closer to as much as touch the other’s hand, Jean would blush dark and pull away as if he’d been burned. It would have been quite adorable had Javert not wanted very much to be fucked. That gorgeous man thrusting into him would have been an ideal end to their date, and it was what he was hoping for from the beginning. However, as bad as Javert was at reading social cues, he gathered quite easily that Jean was disinterested in that. Between his shying away from physical touch and his ignoring of much of Javert’s flirtation, it was clear as day that Jean didn’t want to be intimate. Very well. For today, he was (almost) content with one of his toys and the image of Jean in his head.

He wondered if Jean would ever want to have sex with him. He sincerely hoped so. But it wouldn’t surprise him if Jean was too Catholic for such a thing. He sighed as he imagined how he would feel always going on dates with such an attractive person and yet never being quite able to get what he truly wanted. Wasn’t there a Greek myth about such a thing?

He pushed those thoughts away for the moment, realizing that wallowing in his frustration was likely to only make it worse.

Besides, Jean already had so much to offer. He was making Javert truly happy, somehow. Javert who had never been satisfied by anyone. Javert who was only happy at work or organizing things or looking at the stars. He was grateful for Jean. Was it selfish to want more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Javert’s dildo collection will most definitely make a return.


	6. The Standoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've had a lot of schoolwork to do and not a lot of time for writing. Still not abandoning this fic, though.

Javert was on his very brief lunch break. He sat alone in his office, having only emerged to use the microwave to warm his lunch before retreating to solitude. He had worked for the Paris police department long enough that the others knew by now not to talk to or bother Javert in any way unless absolutely essential, so it wasn’t necessary anymore to shut himself in his office for privacy. However, he disliked even hearing the conversations of his colleagues. Their jovial voices grated on his ears like the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

Javert checked his phone at some point, and was surprised to see a text. It was from Jean, of course — no one else would text him. Not that a message from Jean wasn’t both shocking and wonderful.

> _I’m not sure what time you wake up, but good morning, Javert! :) (7:46 am)_

Ah, yes. He had already left for work at that point, and had not checked his phone since he put it in his pocket, powered off. There was another text, as well.

> _You’re busy, I presume? (11:03 am)_

Well, yes. He had been. And would be again in a short twenty-eight minutes. He figured he ought to reply, anyway. He really did want to, to be perfectly honest.

> **Yes. I’m at work. I am on my lunch break, now. (12:17 pm)**

Javert put his phone down and kept eating his leftover pasta, which was just a little too bland, even for his taste. He really hoped Cosette was right and Jean really wanted to cook for someone. Javert was atrocious in the kitchen.

Javert’s phone vibrated.

> _Work? On Sunday? :O (12:20 pm)_

Right, with Jean being Catholic, he put a lot of weight on Sundays. To Javert, however, today was just any other day of the week.

> **Yes, well, someone has too. Criminals don’t take Sundays off, so neither can we. (12:22 pm)**
> 
> _Bless you, Javert. That’s very selfless of you. (12:23 pm)_

Javert scoffed a little. It really wasn’t. But he figured he could let Jean believe he was some kind of Good Samaritan… at least for now.

> **Thank you. (12:24 pm)**

Javert was able to eat a few more forkfuls of pasta before he got another notification.

> _Is Saturday your only day off? (12:26 pm)_
> 
> **It is, yes. (12:27 pm)**
> 
> _That’s really too bad :( (12:28 pm)_
> 
> **How so? (12:28 pm)**
> 
> _I would have loved to take you out sometime this week. (12:29 pm)_

Javert blushed at this message. He had never wished for more than one day off – in fact, he often wished he had no day off at all – but now that there was something else in his life to look forward to besides work, he saw he benefit in another day to himself.

> **Ah. Well, there’s this Saturday. (12:31 pm)**
> 
> _I know, but that’s so far from now! Especially as an old retiree with nothing much to do but sit around being lonely. (12:32 pm)_
> 
> _I don’t mean to guilt you, by the way. (12:32 pm)_
> 
> _It’s very admirable of you to work so much, and I’m selfish to wish that you had another day off just so I could see you. (12:34 pm)_
> 
> _I’d be very happy to see you on Saturday, Javert. :) (12:35 pm)_

Javert watched this train of messages, feeling quite a few things at once. His thumbs hovered with uncertainty over the keyboard.

> **I’d be happy to see you then, too. It does seem quite far away, though, I agree. (12:37 pm)**
> 
> **Perhaps we could see each other on an evening? I get off work at 6:00 every day. (12:38 pm)**

There was a moment with no reply.

> _I don’t know…Are you sure we ought to be going on dates at night? (12:41 pm)_

Javert raised an eyebrow at his phone.

> **Why not? What’s wrong with that? (12:42 pm)**
> 
> _It just seems… I don’t know. Like it’s too early for that, maybe? Like we might get into trouble or something. (12:43 pm)_
> 
> **Get into trouble? We’re adults, Jean. I think we can keep ourselves out of trouble, whatever you mean by that. (12:45 pm)**
> 
> _I guess you’re right. We are adults. What was I thinking? XD (12:46 pm)_

Javert chuckled at his phone.

> **I don’t know what you were thinking. I appreciate your concern for us, though. Wouldn’t want either of us to break our curfews. (12:47 pm)**
> 
> _Haha, most definitely not! :P (12:48 pm)_
> 
> _If we stay out too late, our parents will never let us see each other again, and we’ll have to sneak out to meet!!! (12:49 pm)_

Javert laughed aloud at the text, grinning at his phone screen. He was trying to think of a witty reply when he heard a knock at his door, and then the door opening.

“Excuse me, Inspector?” came the quiet voice of a young officer.

Javert wiped the smile off his face as swiftly as he could. Oh… it was almost five minutes past the end of his lunch break. He had really lost track of time, he realized, fighting down a blush.

“Yes, Sergeant?” Javert replied in his most authoritative tone.

“I was told to inform you that there has been a development with the Doucet-Malenfant case…”

Javert was excited by the news, perking up instantly. “Right, of course!” He stood up from his desk chair, but looked down to his phone and remembered how Jean had worried the last time Javert had not responded for a while. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Okay,” the sergeant muttered, a little confused. Javert practically never hesitated before jumping to a case, nor did he ever smile or laugh. However, the young man knew not to question his superiors, especially not _this_ superior. He stepped out of the way.

Javert quickly looked down at his phone.

> **Yes, indeed! (12:52 pm)**
> 
> **I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later, Jean. (12:53 pm)**

As soon as he sent the text, Javert tossed his phone down to his desk and rushed out of his office. He would not leave that sergeant any more time to question what he had just seen.

 

***

 

Jean frowned at that last text from Javert. Of course it was going to happen soon, but he still hoped that somehow, Javert’s lunch break would be extended… He sighed.

> **Okay! Have a good afternoon, Javert. :) (12:54 pm)**
> 
> **Or, since you’ll be reading this after work, I hope you had a good afternoon! :P (12:55 pm)**

Jean put his phone down on the table and stared at the screen— at his text conversation with Javert— until the phone automatically powered off, at which point he sighed again. He looked at the book next to his phone. He had been reading it until Javert had texted him. It was a romance novel; one involving two men, at that. Cosette had given it to him a week ago, having read it and loved it herself. Jean was about halfway into it. It was about a middle-aged schoolteacher named Xavier and the single father — Marc— of a boy in Xavier’s class. The character of Marc was warm-hearted and very caring towards his young son, but a little awkward… Jean had kind of seen himself in this character the whole time. However, up until that day, the strict, mysterious Xavier had had no real-life equivalent for Jean… But now, Jean couldn’t help but see Xavier as quite a bit like Javert. The fictional teacher and the real-life policeman had similar personalities and quirks; they were both introverted and rule-oriented, with hard edges and a hidden soft side. However, Xavier was a tad too self-centred and quite a bit too sociable to be Javert… It didn’t matter too much, though. Jean could brush off the lines of dialogue that didn’t seem like Javert just as easily as he could change his mental image of Xavier. In the book, Xavier was described as being an average-height, muscular, pale, bald man; yet, in Jean’s mind, he appeared as a tall, thin, long-haired Romani.

And thus Jean had built this little fantasy… It was even more intense when, earlier that day, Jean read the first kiss between Marc and Xavier. He recalled the passage:

> _“It’s been very pleasant meeting with you,” Xavier said in his customary low tone. Marc shivered at how that voice positively dripped with masculinity._
> 
> _“It certainly has been,” Marc replied, his tone matching the other’s manliness. He stood slowly, smiling a little at the teacher. Xavier was watching him intently with his green-hued eyes. Marc had to swallow the tension in his throat and lick his lips._
> 
> _He started to make his way out of the sexually-charged office bursting with testosterone and masculine energy, when he heard a voice:_
> 
> _“Wait…” It was Xavier who spoke. Marc paused by the door._
> 
> _Xavier was suddenly right behind Marc. Marc could feel the other man’s warmth and energy. He swallowed down a little moan._
> 
> _“What?” He managed to ask._
> 
> _Xavier came between Marc and the door. “I forgot to ask you for something.”_
> 
> _“What do you need, Xavier?” He asked, blushing._
> 
> _“A kiss,” he answered bluntly._
> 
> _Marc’s eyes widened. “Like… the chocolate?”_
> 
> _Xavier rolled his emerald orbs. “No. I want you to kiss me, Marc. Your lips to mine.”_
> 
> _Marc stared at the plump lips in question. They looked very kissable. He ran his tongue over his own, thinner lips to wet them until they were suitable to kiss Xavier with. He took a deep breath. “Okay.”_
> 
> _Marc leaned forward and touched his lips to Xavier’s. He had never felt anything so masculine and wonderful in his whole life. Fireworks went off in his head and in his heart. His tongue danced with Xavier’s, their tongues battling for dominance, which Marc eventually won. Xavier moaned loudly and masculinely as he willingly gave up control. Marc moaned in return, just as loudly and desperately…_

It was certainly not the best writing Jean had ever come across. In fact, it was atrocious. The author cared far too much about asserting both characters’ masculinity and far too little about anything else. Jean had no idea how Cosette enjoyed books like this one. But, despite the clunky and honestly cringeworthy writing, the passage made him practically shiver with delight as he imagined the same scene between him and Javert.

It was far too early, he thought, to be imagining such a thing with Javert. Even in the romance novel, Xavier and Marc had known each other for three months before their first kiss. Jean was suddenly worried about moving too fast. What if Javert thought so too?

Jean decided to put the book away. He really didn’t want to accidentally start imagining anything else happening between himself and the other man. He decided, furthermore, that he would try to leave the pace-setting up to Javert. He wouldn’t say anything that was further than something Javert had already said. He wouldn’t go deeper into planning their rendez-vous unless Javert asked. He would tread carefully. If he could help it, he would even allow Javert to text first. Yes, Jean figured Javert would appreciate that.

 

***

 

Javert got home a little after 11:30 that night. Work had kept him. It turned out the case had progressed much faster than anyone had expected, and had led to the arrest of three gang members. He was quite exhausted by the time he returned to his apartment, and was looking forward to a good night’s rest…

But there was something else, he realized with excitement. Or, more accurately, _someone_ else. There was Jean. Javert wondered if Jean had texted him since lunchtime… perhaps the other man had sent a goodnight text?

Javert scrambled to get his phone from his bag. There were two texts from Jean:

> _Okay! Have a good afternoon, Javert. :) (12:54 pm)_
> 
> _Or, since you’ll be reading this after work, I hope you had a good afternoon! :P (12:55 pm)_

And nothing after that. Javert couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed. He wondered why Jean hadn’t said anything since then… After all, their conversation had been going swimmingly. Maybe Jean had forgotten? Or maybe… maybe he’d had enough of Javert for the day. The inspector frowned further. That wouldn’t be hard to believe.

Jean likely didn’t want to text all day, which was reasonable. Javert was greedy for wanting anything more. He plugged his phone in to charge and went to bed, trying not to think anything of it.

He still couldn’t shake the hope that he would wake to a text from Jean.

 

***

 

Jean was still in bed when he checked his phone for the first time that morning. And thus he started his day off on a disappointing foot: no text from Javert. He frowned at the screen. Javert hadn’t texted him yesterday afternoon, either, and that had already been bad enough.

The lack of correspondence made Jean worry– and worry was what he did best. Part of him started to wonder if Javert was alright. His line of work was a dangerous one, after all… Had something happened to him on the job?

Realistically, it was a lot more likely that Javert simply didn’t have the chance to send him a message… or that he didn’t want to.

Valjean had done some reading online regarding the topic, and sources were pretty much unanimous that, while two people are in the stage of seeing each other, they should not be texting each other constantly. That could put unnecessary pressure on the budding relationship. In fact, based on expert recommendations, Valjean had already been bothering Javert too much. It was just as he’d feared earlier…

The rational explanation was that Javert didn’t want to rush this by texting Jean too often. That was reasonable. And the reasonable thing for Jean to do was to wait for Javert to initiate another conversation.

Still, Jean’s day went by slowly and agonizingly, with him checking his phone far more often than he ought to have been. Nothing. The whole day, nothing.

Jean figured he had to have been doing something wrong, for Javert to ignore him for such a long time. But what was it? He honestly had no idea. He just kept waiting on a text message that seemed less and less likely as time passed.

 

***

 

Javert figured he had to have been doing something wrong, for Jean to ignore him for such a long time. But what was it? He honestly had no idea. He just kept waiting on a text message that seemed less and less likely as time passed.

Javert was home from work. It was 5:42 pm. It had been exactly twenty-eight hours and forty-seven minutes since Jean had last texted him. The numbers just weren’t adding up.

Did Jean suddenly not like Javert anymore? Did he finally realize that Javert was a strange-looking and bitter old man and he could do so, so much better? That wouldn’t be surprising. What was surprising was how long it had taken Jean to come to this inevitable conclusion. Or, worse yet, had Jean somehow _realized the extent of what Javert truly wanted? That the very existence of his desires was in direct opposition to Jean’s moral code?_  
  
Javert spent the evening slumped in an armchair pondering the situation in which he had found himself. What could he do about it? Was there anything to do about it? He opened his text conversation with Jean and typed a message:

> _Hello, Jean. It’s been a few days. How have you been?_

He scowled at the text. It seemed too desperate, too forward, too… Just not right. He promptly deleted it, placed his phone down, and got out of his chair. This was pathetic. He had to do something to distract himself.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Jean woke up the next morning to, yet again, no word from Javert. At this point, it was almost driving him to a panic.   
  
Did Javert suddenly not like Jean anymore? Did he finally realize that Jean was a strange-looking and eccentric old man and he could do so, so much better? That wouldn’t be surprising. What was surprising was how long it had taken Javert to come to this inevitable conclusion. Or, worse yet, had Javert somehow _realized who Jean truly was? That his very existence was in direct opposition to Javert’s moral code?_

Javert spent the morning stuck in bed, fretting over the situation in which he had found himself. What could he do about it? Was there anything to do about it? He opened his text conversation with Javert and typed a message:

> _Hi, Javert! :) It’s been a few days. How’ve you been?_

He frowned at the text. It seemed too desperate, too forward, too… Just not right. He promptly deleted it, placed his phone down, and got out of bed. This was unbecoming. He had to go about his day and distract himself.

 

***  


It was 8:02 pm. It had been fifty-five hours and seven minutes since Jean had last texted. Javert wished he was over it, but he was nowhere near. He felt upset and confused and disappointed and heartbroken a lot more emotions he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt in such magnitudes. He almost wished Jean had sent him a text to confess that this was a horrible mistake and that he had no interest in Javert, or whatever it was that he felt. It would have at least brought closure. Pain, but closure. Instead, Javert had no idea what happened or what went wrong or what exactly had tipped Jean over the brink.

  
Tuesday nights were when Javert went grocery shopping. The routine of doing something familiar was nice. It didn’t completely assuage his grief, but it took the edge off. The discomfort of carrying heavy bags of cheap food and various other household necessities out of the grocery store was a welcome change from a similar ache in his heart.

He was almost succeeding in putting Jean out of his mind, so it was irritating when he walked out of the grocery store and made it down the block only to see Jean himself.

_Wait._

Javert stopped walking abruptly. Javert’s eyes settled on the other man, looking him up and down. It was dark out, but the streetlights provided enough like that Javert could confirm: it was indeed Jean. And he was standing still as well, looking back at Javert with a wide-eyed expression of shock.

“Jean,” Javert said, keeping his voice even.

“Javert!” the man replied. He sounded and looked flustered. “How… How are you?”

Javert nodded. Jean wasn’t running away… “I’m alright, and you?”

“Good, good,” the older man replied. He shifted his weight awkwardly. “What are you up to?”

“Just picked up some groceries,” Javert said, cocking his head towards the bags in his hands. “And now I’m heading home.”

“Ah.”

Javert looked into Jean’s eyes. The other man looked just as nervous as he had when they first met in that Starbucks. “And you? What brings you here?”

The other man shrugged. “Just taking a walk.”

Javert nodded. He stared down the man in front of him and he couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“So? Are you going to explain yourself?” Javert asked.

Jean’s eyes widened. “Wh-- Pardon?”

“You know what I mean, Jean. Why did you ignore me for two days?”

Jean’s mouth opened and closed as he evidently searched for an answer. “I wasn’t ignoring you; I was waiting for you to text me!”

“... What?” Javert paused. “Why? I was waiting for you to text me!”

The older man’s eyes narrowed. “But… I was the last one to text you. I figured I would let you start the next conversation.”

“But you initiated all the conversations up until then. It’s only logical that you’d keep doing the same.”

“I felt like I was texting you too often…”

“Ah. You realized you didn’t actually want to talk to me several times a day?”

“No, that’s not it at all!” Jean said quickly. “I thought that you wouldn’t want to talk to me that often… I didn’t want to put pressure on you.”

“What on Earth made you think that?” Javert scoffed. “I always answered you.”

“Well, I read online that people shouldn’t text too much when they’re just seeing each other, because it can rush the relationship too much. I didn’t want to do that.”

If Javert’s hands had been free, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You… read online…? And you decided to follow this advice instead of… asking me directly?”

Jean looked away. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Javert rolled his eyes. “Were were in a digital Mexican standoff because of something you read online.”

“Yes… But you could have texted me as just as easily!”

"I truly thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

“I thought the same about you!”

“Well, I really don’t feel that way. I would like to keep talking to you.”

“I’d like, that, too.”

Javert shook his head, chuckling. “We’re a pair of dolts, aren’t we?”

Jean smirked. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

The older man’s gaze had, at some point, drifted to his feet. He took this opportunity to meet Javert’s eyes again. “I’m sorry for what happened, Javert.”

“As am I,” he replied.

“Maybe I shouldn’t get my dating advice from Cosmo articles…”

Javert laughed. “Good Lord, Jean. That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

“Well, I…” Jean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes. I’ll admit that. But I’m done being ridiculous.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Javert said.

After a moment, Javert remembered how heavy his grocery bags were. “I’m sorry, Jean, but I really ought to get home. I don’t think I can stand here holding these for much longer.”

Valjean looked down at Javert’s cargo. “Oh, dear! Those look very heavy!” he exclaimed. “Here, why don’t I take those for you? I can walk with you to your apartment.”

Javert shook his head. “No, Jean, you don’t have to do that.” He quickly realized how Jean was likely to interpret this statement. “You can accompany me to my apartment if you’d like, but you don’t need to carry my things.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do…” Jean reached out and grabbed the handles of both of Javert’s reusable cloth grocery bags.

Javert was just about to protest, but the selfishness brought on by his aching arms made him give in. Jean took the bags from him, easily bearing the load. Relief washed over Javert and he stretched his arms.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“It’s no problem, Javert,” Jean replied with a bright smile.

Ah, yes, there was the added benefit of having Jean carry his groceries; he saw Jean’s arm muscles bulge out against the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt. It was quite the treat.

Javert finally remembered to start walking towards his apartment. Jean followed half a step behind him to his left.

“So, how have the last couple days been for you, Javert?” Jean asked.

“Sunday afternoon was quite exciting; solved a case, arrested a few gang members. I’ll spare you the details; I’m technically not allowed to tell you much about it, anyway. Yesterday and today were uneventful and rather long.”

“Well, solving a case sounds like something to be proud of, congratulations!”

“It’s not as glamorous as it is in the movies, Jean. But thank you anyway.”

Jean chuckled a little. “So what does a police inspector do on slow days?”

“Paperwork,” Javert grumbled.

“Ah. That isn’t fun, no.”

“How about you? What have you been doing these past few days?” Javert asked.

“Nothing much. Just the usual kind of thing. Working out, gardening, reading; all that.”

“Of course,” Javert muttered. “Is it boring, being retired?”

Jean shrugged. “Occasionally. But I have many hobbies to keep me occupied. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.”

“Are you planning on retiring soon, Javert?”

The inspector scoffed. “On my salary? I’ll be working from beyond the grave.”

“Really? I thought your rank would pay quite well.”

“It pays decently. But my parents’... _estate_ has to be taken into account.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. They gifted me with an ungodly amount of money. In debt.”

“...Oh. That’s very unfortunate.”

“There’s no use feeling sorry for myself. It is what it is,” Javert said; words he had told himself many a time.

There was a silence, then. It wasn’t quite uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. It seemed there was something left unsaid, and yet saying  something didn’t seem right, either. The two men walked the few remaining minutes without talking, only breaking the silence one they arrived at Javert’s apartment building.

“Here we are,” Javert announced quietly and slowed to a stop.

Jean stopped walking as well and looked up at the unimpressive building. Javert, in turn, looked at Jean. The glow of the streetlights shone off his white hair and beard, leaving an almost ethereal glow. He didn’t want to let Jean go just yet. Especially not after the last few days.

“Do you have anything planned for the rest of the evening, Jean?” He tried.

“Well, after this walk I was going to go home and relax, probably read a little,” Jean answered.

Did Jean not want to stay here, or did he really not understand Javert’s subtext? “Ah. I was going to ask if you would like to come in with me.”

Maybe it was just the lighting, but it really looked like Jean was blushing. “Oh, I don’t want to impose…”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. I was the one who offered.”

Jean chewed on his lower lip. “I… I suppose that’s true, but…”

“But a Cosmopolitan article told you not to go over to a boy’s house? Is that it?”

Jean was definitely blushing now. “Uh, well… Those articles have a point, though! I wouldn’t want to rush into things with you. As much as I want to accept, I ought to have some self control.”

Javert sighed. “Jean, if you want to decline, that’s your right. But don’t say no just because you’re worried about _rushing things_ . That’s a load of bullshit.”   
  
“Javert, there’s no need to curse!”

The Inspector nodded, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “We’re too old to be playing by these silly rules.”

Something seemed to click for Jean, then. He laughed a little. “You’re right. Gosh, I’m usually not this much of a fool, I swear. Believe it or not, I’m a functioning adult in other aspects of life. You’ve turned me into some kind of lovesick idiot.”

Javert grinned. “Really?”

“Really. But, as I said earlier, I’m done being ridiculous.”

“You did say that, yes.”

Jean stood up straighter, cleared his throat. “I would love to come in with you for a while, Javert.”

The Inspector smiled even wider. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard sweeter words.

 


	7. The Answer is Forty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly got a lot of inspiration for continuing this story, so here's another chapter sooner than expected. It's pretty short and more fluff than substance, but here it is!
> 
> I've really fenced myself in with the chapter titles starting with "the". I can't break the pattern but I also couldn't think of a good title for this chapter.

It was an hour later, approximately. Maybe more. Jean didn’t really have any clue. It didn’t matter one bit.

The two men were sitting on Javert’s ugly old couch, each with a half-finished glass of wine in hand. Jean didn’t drink often at all, and at first he had refused Javert’s offer, but he figured a glass or two hurt. They weren’t drunk; they weren’t even tipsy. But the presence of alcohol was known to ease conversation. And it had worked.

“...And it gets worse,” Javert said. “I got home and checked my phone and I saw he’d texted me several times.”

“Oh no,” Jean replied.

“Yeah. It was just a bunch texts like ‘why did you leave, Javert?’ ‘I thought it was going so well!’ ‘Please give me another chance!’ That kind of thing.”

Jean laughed. “Good grief. How desperate.”

“But I guess he couldn’t handle me not texting him back within twenty minutes. The last text Bruno sent me was ‘fuck you, you gypsy bitch; you’re ugly anyways’.”

Jean felt his jaw drop in anger and disbelief. “He did not!”

Javert laughed. “He certainly did.”

“What a– a… Horrible thing to say! That’s just simply awful!”

“It was funny to me, Jean. Really,” Javert assured him.

“How can that be funny? It was racist, incredibly rude and totally uncalled for!”

“It was funny because of the dichotomy between that text and all the other ones.”

“I suppose. Did you block him afterwards?”

“Yes. His number and his profile. And I reported the profile for using misleading profile photos.”

Jean nodded. “Good. I’m glad. What he said to you was deeply hurtful.”

“It wasn’t really. That was his intention, but it really didn’t work.”

Jean smiled a little. “That’s good. He stooped really low, trying to insult your race. And I’m glad you don’t think you’re ugly just because some disgusting stranger told you so.”

Javert chuckled, swirling his wine around in its glass. “You’re right. I think I’m ugly because I have eyes.”

Jean was appalled by what he heard. “What?! Javert, don’t say that!”

“It’s the simple truth, Jean. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’ve long accepted it.”

The older man shook his head in disbelief. He placed his glass down on the coffee table. “No, Javert. It’s not true at all. You’re… not in the least bit ugly.”

Javert scoffed. “You think?”

“No, I know. You’re very handsome. Why is it that so many attractive people think they’re ugly? Cosette was the same way until she was in her late teens, at which point she finally realized she’s beautiful.”

“Jean, the difference here is that your daughter is actually beautiful. I’m downright freakish in appearance.”

Jean shook his head yet again. “No. No, that’s… No. That’s a load of garbage, Javert. I’m sure deep down inside you know you’re extremely handsome.”

Javert snorted. “Nope. Honestly, Jean, all you need to do to prove yourself wrong is to compare your looks to mine.”

“Okay. I’m a fairly average-looking old man. You’re gorgeous.”

Javert’s eyes were wide as saucers. “... What did you just say you were?”

“A fairly average-looking old man?” Jean repeated.

“What the fuck?” Javert muttered.

“Hey, watch your–“ Jean started, but was quickly interrupted:

“–See, your perception of attractiveness, at least for men, is completely fucked up. You’re more attractive than most men half your age, Jean.”

“Right, well, thank you, but–“

“–But what?” Javert cut him off. “It’s the truth.”

“Is it? The thing is, Javert, I used to be a very good-looking young man. And then I aged.”

“And became a very good-looking older man,” Javert finished for him.

“I’m not sure about that… I never thought I aged very well. I got a lot of freckles and wrinkles.”

“And those are attractive.”

Jean felt himself blushing. “You’re such a flatterer, Javert.”

Javert shrugged and sipped his wine. “Again, I’m simply telling you the truth.”

“But anyway…” Jean said, realizing they had strayed from the topic of Javert. “About you. You’re attractive, too.”

“No, I’m–“

“Yes,” Jean said, taking his turn to interrupt the other man. “You are. You have stunning eyes and very nice hair. And your facial features are attractive, too. You have a lovely strong jawline.”

Javert raised his eyebrows. “Do I, now?”

“And you have the most beautiful smile, Javert.”

Javert guffawed. “That’s not true. I have a hideous smile. My own mother used to tell me to smile with my mouth closed because she could see my gums too much.”

Jean couldn’t believe what he heard. “That’s– My goodness, Javert, that’s awful! I’m so sorry…”

“She was right, though. She was wrong about many things, but she was right about that.”

“But you have dimples when you smile, Javert. And those are very sweet.”

“I… Have dimples? I assumed I just had really deep wrinkles.”

Jean laughed. “Of course that’s what you thought. But it’s true; when you smile– when you really smile– you have dimples. And they’re cute.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Why not? Don’t you have a picture where you can see them?”

“No, why would I?”

Jean frowned a little. That was… a bit sad, actually. “Well, I’ll have to take one to show you.” Jean pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Oh, please, don’t do that…” Javert said.

“It’ll just be to show you your adorable dimples.”

“No, I hate having my picture taken…”

Jean cocked his head to the side. “Please, Javert? I’ll delete it immediately, if that’s what you want. I just want to show you what you look like smiling. That’s all.”

Javert sighed. “Fine.” He put his wine glass on the table and laced his fingers over his lap. “Do your worst.”

Jean smiled and opened the camera app on his phone. He leaned back until he found a halfway decent angle. “Okay… Say cheese!”

Javert smiled a tiny bit.

“More!”

Javert smiled more. It looked forced as anything, but it would do.

“Okay…” Jean pressed where he believed the capture button to be, but the frame shape changed instead. “Wait, what? What button did I press?”

“I don’t know, what button did you press, Jean?” Javert said through teeth clenched in a fake smile.

“Wait, back, back…” He said to himself, trying to find what he’d done wrong before Javert could move. “There!” He pressed a button, and was greeted with a close up image of his own face. “Oh shoot, that’s my face! Why is my face on my phone? Hello?”

Javert burst out laughing. Somehow, Jean managed to turn the camera back to rear-facing and press the correct button. The shutter sound went off, confirming his success.

“There we go!”

He opened the photo gallery to take a look at the picture. It wasn’t very good; it was blurry from movement, and Javert wasn’t facing the camera, but looking to the side. However, Javert was genuinely smiling, and even Javert would agree that there were dimples (well, one dimple) visible.

“Ah-ha!” Jean exclaimed, sitting up. “I have evidence!” He scooted closer to Javert, who leaned towards him in turn. He proudly showed the image to the other man.

“There! Dimples! What say you to that, Inspector?” he asked smugly.

“Well,” Javert replied. “I suppose I do have dimples. But I still look absolutely hideous,” he said, pushing Jean’s phone away.

Jean sighed in exasperation, placing his phone on the coffee table. “You’re exhausting.”

“No, _you’re_ exhausting,” Javert countered.

“You need an attitude check.”

“You need an eyesight check.”

Jean laughed at Javert’s admittedly funny quip. “My eyes work just fine, I assure you. You’re just stubborn.”

“The first true thing you’ve said about me for a while,” Javert said.

“What about the dimples thing?” Jean asked, crossing his arms.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one too.”

“What if I simply put it thus: I believe that very attractive. You can’t say that isn’t true.”

Javert crossed his arms, mirroring Jean. “You’re right. I can’t. But I _can_ say that I believe, in turn, that you’re a complete fool for thinking that.”

Jean cocked his head to the side. “Well, you are entitled to your belief.”

“As are you. No matter how wrong it is.”

Jean shook his head, smiling wistfully. “Will you at least indulge this fool a little longer?”

“In what way?”

“May I tell you again how handsome you are?”

Javert rolled his eyes, but Jean still caught his blush. “If you must.”

Jean’s smile widened and he moved yet closer to the other man, leaning on his thighs. “Wonderful. Javert, you are… uniquely attractive. I have never seen a man who has captivated me quite like you have. Your eyes are the most gorgeous shade of blue I have ever seen. I like how your jaw and your cheekbones are so pronounced. Your hair is beautiful.” It must have been the wine, Jean thought, that made him able to speak like this. It wasn’t exactly poetic, but the words he spoke flowed together with more grace than he was expecting. He elected to continue. “Your skin is… Beautiful. I’ve run out of synonyms.”

Javert chuckled. “Shall I get you a thesaurus?”  
  
“No, I’ll manage,” Jean dismissed. “Your smile is beautiful, and so are your dimples, and so are your lips and… And everything. I just really think you’re quite good-looking, Javert. You’re honestly just… very handsome.”

Javert was smiling bashfully. “Oh… well. Thank you, Jean.”

“You’re most welcome,” he replied with a little nod. “It’s my pleasure.”

“It seems to me, though, that I am but a floating head in your mind,” the younger man said.

Jean’s eyebrows pulled together and he pursed his lips. “What do you mean by that?”

“You have mentioned nothing about my body. Do you like my body as well, Jean?” Javert asked this with a mock innocence that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jean blushed furiously. He did like Javert’s body. Far too much. He had, in fact, been trying desperately to ignore just how much he liked Javert’s body. “I, uh… Yes. It’s also… good.”

Javert cocked his head to the side. “Is it? Care to elaborate?”

Jean swallowed. Goodness, he’d really backed himself into a corner here. “Um… It’s… Well, you have… You have good proportions.”

“Do I, now?” Javert asked, his typically deep voice now scarcely higher than a growl.

Jean was tomato red. “Uh…” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. You do.”

Javert smirked and uncrossed his arms, opening his posture. “I’m very curious as to what you mean, Jean. Please, do continue.”

Jean had no idea any voice could sound so sinful. He shuddered. “Javert, I– I’d rather not– I’d rather not talk about this. I feel like this is going somewhere that… I’m not comfortable with.”

Javert looked disappointed. The bright look in his eye was extinguished. He nodded. “Alright, Jean. I understand.”

Jean nodded back. “I’m sorry, I–“

“–Don’t be sorry. I was very brash. I ought to apologize for that.”

“It’s alright, Javert. Thanks for your understanding.”

He nodded once in affirmation, staying silent.

Jean had nothing to say, either. The danger had been avoided, but the possibility of what could have been still hung heavy in the air.

He hadn’t felt this kind of tension since he was a much younger man, and even then, it had been vastly different. In his head, he asked the Lord for forgiveness.

“By the way, Jean… Thank you for your kind words,” Javert said softly. “Even though I may not agree with or understand how you view me. I appreciate what you said.”

Jean smiled. “You’re most welcome. You deserve to hear those kinds of words.”

The younger man was smiling a little. He looked down, seemingly at Jean’s chest. “As do you. You are most definitely not average-looking. Or average in any respect.”

“Oh… Thank you.”

Javert was still looking at him funny, biting his lip a little.

“What is it, Javert?”

“I would like to, uh… May I… cuddle with you?” Javert asked awkwardly.

Jean blushed. He had been blushing an awful lot. “Uh…” He really did like the idea of cuddling, especially with Javert. “Yes, I don’t see why not.”

Javert nodded and moved closer.

Jean felt Javert’s body touch his. He flushed hot at the sensation. Soon enough, the other man had pressed himself to Jean, his head resting on Jean’s shoulder. At this, he couldn’t help but smile. It was so new, but so right. He let his head fall on Javert, and he snuck an arm around Javert’s torso. After a couple more little adjustments from the both of them, they had found the perfect position. It was so very comfortable like this that Jean found himself wishing to somehow hold Javert even closer.

A couple minutes later, Javert moved his head, shaking Jean out of his trancelike state. Jean looked at the other man, wordlessly demanding an answer. As if in reply, Javert placed a tentative hand on Jean’s beaded cheek. The touch was gentle, questioning.

“May I?” Javert asked softly.

“May you what?"

“Kiss you,” he replied.

Jean’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Javert waited patiently for a reply. He looked strikingly calm. Jean glanced down at Javert’s lips and they looked so darn appealing… Was it too soon to kiss? Did it even matter?

“Yeah,” Jean muttered.

Javert smiled a tiny bit. He leaned forward more and Jean realized he was dreadfully unprepared; he hadn’t kissed anyone in 30, 40… forty-something years… Sixty-five minus twenty-one made-

Oh, dear, Javert’s lips were touching his and he wasn’t ready at all, he was doing nothing and this was very bad. He made a sharp little noise, tapping Javert’s shoulder insistently.

Javert pulled back immediately, looking confused. “What? Change your mind?"

“No, I… I was doing math in my head.”

“You were doing what, now?”

“Math,” Jean repeated. “I found the answer, though. It’s forty-forty.”

Javert nodded. “...Alright, then. Do you have any other calculations you need to solve, or can we get back to kissing?”

“No, I’m done.” Jean ran his hand through his own hair. “I just… Goodness, Javert, I haven’t kissed anyone in forty-four years!”

Javert’s eyes widened. “Oh. That’s… quite a long time.”

“Yeah,” Jean muttered.

“And you don’t want to break your streak?”

“No, that’s not it at all… I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You think I know what I’m doing?” Javert asked.

“Yeah, you seem to.”

“Well, I haven’t a clue,” Javert admitted sharply.

“Oh…”

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to be kissed,” Javert said.

Jean chuckled. “Right. And no math this time.”

He took a breath and leaned forward, tilting his head slightly to the side. He closed his eyes. Jean felt his nose bump against Javert’s and he adjusted his angle. Then his lips found the other’s properly, and it was… it was lovely, really. He broke the kiss after a moment, only to go in again for more. He tried to dig up foggy memories of what to do when kissing, tried to recall what exactly it was that made several people call him an excellent kisser. He couldn’t really remember. But this was so far removed from all that nonsense, anyway; it was like a completely new experience.

Gradually, their kisses became longer, the quiet sounds of their lips separating getting less frequent. Jean tried a hand on what he approximated to be Javert’s waist. His eyes were closed, so he couldn’t be sure… Yes, that felt like a waist.

Javert’s tongue swiped against his lower lip, and that seemed to ignite something in Jean. He hummed lowly and pressed his tongue forward. From there on in, it was coming naturally to him. His arms slid to better hold Javert close, and he kissed with more passion.

It was really, really good. He wouldn’t have described the whole endeavour as particularly masculine, nor the gentle motion of their tongues as a “battle for dominance”. That poorly-written book he’d been reading was even worse than he’d previously thought. Xavier and Marc’s first kiss had nothing on what was going on now. The only thing Jean felt was accurate was the idea of fireworks going off inside him; he certainly felt something along those lines.

He eventually pulled away, finishing with a long, close-mouthed kiss. Jean opened his eyes to find Javert in some kind of trance-like state.

“Good God, Jean…” he muttered. “That was amazing.”

Jean nodded. He elected to ignore Javert’s use of the Lord’s name. “It… It was.”

Javert finally blinked his eyes open. “You’re really good at that, when you’re not doing math.”

Jean chuckled. “Thank you. You’re good at it, too.”

“I’d like to kiss more,” Javert said.

“I would, as well,” Jean replied. He leaned in again and kissed Javert’s cheek lightly.

The other man laughed a little. “Your beard tickles.”

Jean smiled. “Does it?” He continued to kiss Javert’s cheek and over his jaw.

Javert was practically giggling. “Jean–“

He grinned wider and rubbed the side of his face down Javert’s neck. The other man’s laughing continued, to his delight. Jean kissed Javert’s neck a little and slid back up to his cheek. He hugged Javert close.

“Goodness, I love your laugh,” Jean muttered.

Javert hummed in reply.

It wasn’t long before they began kissing again. It was as if they couldn’t help it. They probably couldn’t.


	8. The Doubting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been three months since I last updated this fic. My apologies! School has been pretty intense, but reading week allowed me to pick up writing this again. 
> 
> In this chapter, we have Javert being very Javert, and Valjean being very Valjean. 
> 
> WARNING: The beginning part of the chapter is NSFW!  
> CWs for this chapter: religious guilt, internalized homophobia, slight and unintentional ableism

Javert let out a breathy moan, his thighs spreading apart almost of their own volition. Glassy-eyed, he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom.  
  
He was alone, but damn him if he couldn’t pretend that the large and lifeless dildo he was riding was Jean’s cock. It was so easy to want sex with Jean-- and in turn, to imagine it. When they had cuddled and kissed earlier that evening, Jean had been so soft and gentle. Making love to him would be the same, Javert surmised: affectionate, loving, tender.  
  
With how focused he was, Javert could almost feel Jean lightly kissing his back and shoulders, that soft beard tickling his bare skin. He could easily imagine Jean running his warm, calloused hands over Javert’s body, comforting but possessive. Javert whimpered with need.  
  
He wondered what sounds Jean might make. Would he moan loudly and lustfully into Javert’s ear? Would he try his best to remain silent and only let out the occasional quiet gasp? What would Jean _say?_ Javert thought of Jean telling him how handsome he was, how beautiful his body was…  
  
It wasn’t long before Javert reached his climax, crying out in pleasure. He sunk down onto the dildo, his tired legs needing the relief.  
  
And as sense began replacing lust in his mind, he frowned. Why was he torturing himself in this manner? Why was he imagining such things with a man who had so pointedly rejected his sexual advances? This would do him no good, he knew.  
  
Javert started to feel ashamed. Jean was such a pure, innocent man. A man that gave Javert more than he felt he rightfully deserved. Who was he to ask for even more?

  
But Javert felt like he couldn’t be blamed for it. Jean was so attractive… But that didn’t excuse Javert’s lust, did it? Jean couldn’t help how he looked. Jean didn’t decide to be absolutely stunning just to tease Javert. The dolt thought he was “average-looking”, for God’s sake.  
  
Javert sighed. Perhaps he would gain the strength to ignore his lust. Or perhaps his age would catch up to him and mercifully rob him of his libido. He could only hope.  
  
***  
  
Jean woke up feeling awful. He wasn’t surprised, given how poorly he had slept during the night.  
  
After getting home very late– around 11:30– he couldn’t stop thinking about Javert. Firstly in a positive light; he had enjoyed their evening together so very much. The conversation, the laughter… The cuddling and the kissing, too. Javert made him so genuinely happy. He was feeling something with this man that he had truly never felt before.  
  
But there was something else he felt, too. Something all too familiar. It took him back to his years as a teenager and young adult, chasing women in search of what young men were meant to feel, and finally finding it with other men. He remembered this feeling well, though it had been many decades. He remembered the weight in the pit of his stomach, the magnetic pull of his body to another’s. The desperate want for more, for…  
  
Sinning, that’s what it was. It was all sin, it was all so very dirty and it was one of the many things Jean had sworn to give up when the bishop Myriel had saved his soul.

Of course, he had eventually accepted his homosexuality. He eventually believed it wasn’t a sin to want to sleep with men, only to actually go through with it. And as the years went on, Jean began to realize queer people weren’t automatically sinners, even when acted on their desires.  
  
Especially when Cosette nervously came out to him as bisexual when she was fourteen. How could he call his own daughter a sinner, simply because she had feelings for a girl in her grade?  
  
This was when Jean had confessed to Cosette that he, too, wasn’t straight. But somehow, he still didn’t quite accept himself. He could accept that he had a bit of a “gay accent”, that he had some traditionally feminine interests and mannerisms, and that he had no romantic interest in women. But still, for some reason, he couldn’t accept that he liked men. He still found his own desires filthy and sinful.  
  
That was one of the main reasons he had remained single all this time. Somehow, in his mind, it was okay for anyone in the world to be gay… Except him.  
  
He began to think that if he hadn’t told Cosette he was gay, he would never have met Javert, and he wouldn’t be in this debacle in the first place. But it wasn’t Cosette’s fault. She didn’t know that Javert would stir Jean in this way. She didn’t know the things he would say.  
  
Oh, but he couldn’t place the blame on Javert, either. Jean couldn’t expect Javert to know that he was so disgusted by his own sexuality. Besides, Javert had immediately stopped talking about it when Jean had asked him to.  
  
No, the only guilty party was Jean himself. He had allowed himself to lust after Javert. He had let his guard down, assuming that he was too old to want Javert in that way.  
  
Why wasn’t he too old? He had thought that was a reasonable assumption to make. This was God testing him, was it not? God had sent Jean a beautiful man with whom he seemed entirely compatible. He was testing Jean’s commitment to purity.  
  
There was something else, though, was there not? It couldn’t be a coincidence that Javert was a _police officer_ . Was God telling him that his ruse was up, that it was time to confess his past? Was it time to suffer the ultimate consequence by revealing it to Javert and being forsaken by his only romantic interest since prison?  
  
Before going to sleep, Jean had prayed for what could have been hours, for forgiveness and for guidance. Now that he had woken up from a restless sleep, he prayed again.  
  
Jean was disturbed by the sound of his phone buzzing. It was a text from Javert.

> _Good morning, Jean. I’m on my way to work now and won’t be available to talk until my lunch break at noon. I just wanted to say hello and tell you again how much I enjoyed last night. You know, just in case you were starting to doubt yourself like before. Looking forward to hearing from you. (7:42 am)_

Jean stared in something akin to disbelief. The text was just what he needed. He was indeed starting to doubt himself… Maybe he was thinking of this whole thing incorrectly. Perhaps Javert wasn’t a test from God, but a gift. He typed a response:

> **Good morning, Javert! Honestly, I needed to hear that; thank you. I was kind of doubting myself. I had a great time last night, too! Talk to you in a few hours. :) (7:45 am)**

Jean put his phone down and got out of bed. He was a little behind his self-imposed schedule, but that was alright. It would be fine.  
  
Perhaps, he thought, this would all be fine.  
  
***  
  
Javert had never been particularly excited for his lunch break before. In fact, he loathed that he had to take a break from work to put nutrients into his body. Sometimes, he elected to skip lunch altogether.  
  
Now, though, things were very different. There was Jean.  
  
Javert got his phone out of his bag with an almost embarrassing amount of excitement. To his delight, he already had a text

> _Good morning, Javert! Honestly, I needed to hear that; thank you. I was kind of doubting myself. I had a great time last night, too! Talk to you in a few hours. :) (7:45 am)_

Javert read the text over a couple times, a little confused. He had meant that bit about Jean doubting himself as kind of a joke.

> **Why are you doubting yourself, Jean? More dubious online articles telling you you’re courting me incorrectly? (12:17 pm)**

Javert put his phone down and started to eat the plain rice he had packed for lunch that day. He hoped Jean would reply soon. The man couldn’t be trusted to not read any damn Cosmopolitan articles.  
  
In a couple long minutes, his phone buzzed.

> _No, haha :P I haven’t been going anywhere near those! (12:20 pm)_ _  
> _ _  
> _ _It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it. (12:21 pm)_

Javert chewed thoughtfully as he considered how to reply. His inspector senses told him that something was up, here.

>   
>  **Are you sure that’s it, Jean? There isn’t something bigger going on here? (12:24 pm)** **  
>  **

The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, and re-appeared several times before it went away entirely. Javert frowned.

> **Please tell me how you really feel, Jean. (12:27 pm)** **  
>  **

That damn bubble kept popping up and going away again. Javert wanted to climb through the phone and ask Jean what the hell was going on.

> _It’s my anxiety. That’s all. (12:29 pm)_

Javert frowned. That didn’t seem like the whole truth, but it would have to do.

> **If you insist. Please feel free to tell me whenever there’s something on your mind. (12:30 pm)**
> 
> _That’s really kind of you. Same goes for you! :) (12:31 pm)_
> 
> _So, how’s your day been? (12:32 pm)_

Javert was about to press further, but he noted Jean’s move to change the topic and decided to respect it – at least for now.

> **It’s been okay. Nothing too exciting. How about yours? (12:33 pm)**
> 
> _S_ _ame here. Just the usual. (12:34 pm)_
> 
> _Are you free this evening, Javert? Would you like to go for a walk together? (12:35 pm)_

Javert smiled at his phone.

> **Yes, I would indeed like to. (12:37 pm)** **  
> ** **  
> ** _Great! (12:38 pm)_ _  
> _   
>  _I could meet you at your apartment building. (12:40 pm)_
> 
> **Sounds good. What time should I expect you? (12:41 pm)**
> 
> _Hmm… (12:41 pm)_
> 
> _7:30? (12:42 pm)_
> 
> **That works. (12:43 pm)**
> 
> **I look forward to it! (12:44 pm)**
> 
> _So do I! :) (12:45 pm)_

Javert frowned as he noticed the timestamp on the message.

> **Well, Jean, it’s unfortunately the end of my lunch break. I have to get back to work now. (12:46 pm)**
> 
> **I’ll see you this evening. (12:46 pm)**
> 
> _Alright, Javert! Have a good afternoon. See you! :) (12:47 pm)_
> 
> With a sigh, Javert turned his phone off and put it away. At least he would see Jean tonight.

***

It was mid-afternoon and Jean was reading – a non-fiction book about the Mongols, not that darned romance – when he got a call from Cosette.

It had been a while since he’d talked to his daughter over the phone, so he was very happy. He picked the phone up quickly, sliding a bookmark between the pages of his novel.

“Hey, Cosette!” he greeted cheerfully.

“Papa! How’ve you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been great! How are you and Marius?”

“We’re just fine.” She paused for a moment. “How’s Javert?”

Jean blushed a little. “Oh, he’s… he’s well. He’s at work right now.”

“I _meant_ how’s it going between you and him, Papa?” Cosette asked, her tone insistent.

“It’s going quite well! We saw each other last night. And we’re going to take a walk together this evening.”

“Yay!” Cosette exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you! What did you do last night?”

Jean smiled to himself, blushing. “We ran into each other unexpectedly and he invited me to his apartment.”

“Oh…?” Cosette prompted.

“Yeah, and we talked for a long time.”

“Did anything else happen?”

Jean blushed more. “Well, we… We cuddled on his couch.

“Aww, that’s cute!”

“...And we ended up kissing.”

Cosette squealed. “Oh my God, really?! How was it?”

“It was really nice, Coco. It was…  really, really nice.”

“That’s so great, Papa. How do you feel? Are you finally less nervous?”

He sighed, his smile fading. “Oh, Cosette, I’m not any less nervous. I'm kind of a mess, to be honest with you.”

“Really?” She sighed as well. “Why?”

“I just feel… I just feel like I’m doing it all wrong. Like I’m moving too fast and that I’m going to wreck it somehow.” He declined to tell Cosette about the other things, for obvious reasons.

“Papa… why? Haven’t things been going well?”

“They were, until we ended up not texting each other for four days. I thought I was being too forward and that I should give him space, so I was waiting for him to text me first… Turns out he was worried about the same. Both of us were just… waiting on the other, thinking they didn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”

Jean was shocked to hear Cosette laughing on the other end. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, Papa, but that’s so… You’ve got to realize that’s hilarious, right? Like, that’s rom-com material.”  
  
Jean smiled. “I– Well, I suppose it was quite silly of us.”

“And cute, in a weird sort of way.”

“You think?” He cocked his head to the side, though Cosette obviously couldn’t see.

“Yeah. Like… You were both so concerned about the other person’s thoughts? I mean, you obviously care quite a bit about each other.”

“I see. Yeah, I do think we both care a lot.”

“So, how is that a problem?” Cosette asked.

Jean frowned again. “Well, I’m just so worried that something like that will happen again. But worse.”

“What do you mean, Papa?”

“I… I don’t know exactly. But we may have never spoken again if we hadn’t met again by chance. And that’s scary to me.”  
  
“Well, Papa, as you’ve said to me before, there’s no use in focusing on the ‘ifs’. That didn’t happen. Now you just need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”  
  
“Okay, but how am I supposed to do that?”  
  
“You can start by not ignoring each other for four days straight.”  
  
Jean chuckled despite himself. “Fair enough. So, you think I should be texting him regularly?”  
  
“I would think so,” Cosette answered. “But don’t double text him.”

“‘Double text’? What does that mean?” Jean asked.

“If you text him and he doesn’t respond, don’t text him again unless you’ve got something important to say.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”  
  
“Yeah. But maybe he wouldn’t mind that? I don’t know this guy. It’s your call.”  
  
“But I am so bad at this, Coco…” Jean complained.

“I know you’ll be fine. Just go with your instinct. It’s clear he does care about you.”

Jean smiled. “Thank you, Cosette. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re most welcome, Papa.”

Jean smiled to himself, not speaking for a moment.

“Well, I should get back to work,” Cosette said.

“Wait, there’s another thing,” he said. “How do I change my phone background, again? Last night I took a really adorable picture of Javert…"

Cosette laughed. “Aww, Papa! Well, you go to settings and scroll down a bit until you see ‘wallpaper’. Click on that.”

“Oh, okay. Got it. Thanks, Cosette!”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s all.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later! Love you, Coco!”

“Love you too, Papa!”

Cosette hung up. Before he could forget what she’d said, Jean went to settings and changed his home screen background to that picture of Javert. He ended up staring at it for quite a bit, smiling at Javert’s smile. He wasn’t entirely calmed, but he felt a lot better now. He really felt like everything could turn out okay.

***

Javert was sitting on his couch, his leg bouncing excitedly. He had done everything he could think of to prepare for the date– he’d eaten a small dinner that would leave him not hungry but also not bloated, he’d changed out of his uniform into some nice but casual clothes, he’d brushed his hair and teeth. Javert even preemptively jerked off in hopes that it would curb his need for Jean. He was still kind of nervous. Well, quite nervous. He kept checking his phone, waiting for Jean to say he was on his way or that he was at Javert’s apartment building. He was half expecting to see a text saying that Jean had to cancel.

A text finally came. Javert looked at his phone as soon as it buzzed.

> _Hey, Javert! I’m on my way. (7:16 pm)_
> 
> _I should be there at 7:30! (7:17 pm)_
> 
> _Oops, sorry for the double-text. :-/ (7:17 pm)_

Javert raised an eyebrow. Why was he apologizing for having sent two messages? He hadn’t done so prior. Did Jean read some no-double-texting rule in another one of those damned articles?

> **It’s alright, Jean. No need to apologize. (7:18 pm)**
> 
> **See you soon. I’ll be waiting in the lobby. (7:20 pm)**
> 
> _Okay! :) (7:21 pm)_

Javert stood and put his phone in his pocket. He went to the bathroom to check the mirror one last time, making sure he wasn’t uglier than usual. Then, he got a light jacket from the closet, picked up his keys, and left his apartment.

Javert took the elevator down to the lobby, and sat on a rather uncomfortable armchair from which he could see outside. It was dark, but the streetlights would let him see Jean as he approached. Javert checked his phone. It was 7:26. His leg was bouncing again. He had just seen Jean a day ago; this was almost embarrassing. He watched out the window with a great deal of anticipation. Every person who walked by made him perk up, but none of them were Jean.

Finally, Javert spotted a familiar man. Jean met Javert’s eyes through the window, smiled big and waved. Javert felt a smirk tug at his own lips, and he waved back. He sprung to his feet and walked out the front door.

“Good evening, Jean,” Javert greeted as he walked outside.

“Hello, Javert!” the other man replied. He went up to Javert and hugged him, which surprised Javert slightly. He eventually rested his hand against Jean’s upper back. Even this part of him was muscular.

When Jean pulled away, he was grinning even wider. “You look lovely.”

Javert squinted in confusion. “I do?”

Jean nodded.  
  
“I didn’t do anything,” Javert countered.

“You don’t have to do anything to look lovely.”

Javert scoffed.  
  
“I’m serious, Javert.”

“Right, whatever you say.”  
  
Jean sighed. “Anyway,” he said, seeming a little frustrated, “Are you certain you won’t be cold with that jacket, Javert? It’s quite chilly out.”  
  
It was kind of cold. But Javert didn’t want to return to his apartment to get another one. He should be alright, anyway. “Don’t worry; I’ll be perfectly fine,” he said.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind waiting for you to get a different jacket.”

Javert shook his head. “I’m certain.”

“Okay, if you insist.” Jean smiled a little. “Shall we go, then?”

Javert nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

Jean extended his elbow to Javert, he linked his arm through Jean’s, and they started walking. Javert found that quite old-fashioned, even for ancients such as them. Perhaps it was the Catholic alternative for sinful hand holding?

“How was your day, Javert?” Jean asked after a short moment.

“It was actually quite good,” Javert answered. “I was doing nothing interesting this morning, but in the afternoon, I was called to a crime scene.”

“Oh?” to Javert’s surprise, Jean seemed genuinely interested. “What happened?”

“An important investor was murdered in his home,” Javert said. “You’ll probably see it in the news shortly.”  
  
“Oh, goodness, that’s terrible! Was it… messy?”

Javert smirked a little at Jean’s wording. “Well, yes. It was indeed messy. Nothing that particularly shocked me, though. I must say, the person who did it was quite… thorough. And clever. It took me and my team quite a while to find any clues, but we did eventually find them.”

“Oh? So do you have any leads?”  
  
“Yes, sort of. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much else until the information is made public. Not that I really have anything else to say that isn’t pure speculation.”  
  
“Ah. I understand.”

“I feel like it will take quite a while to solve this one. Thankfully, most of the people working on this case are quite competent.”

Jean chuckled. “So you’ve worked with incompetent officers before?”

“Oh, Lord, yes,” Javert said. “It’s tiresome. Some of the new recruits can’t even use the coffee machine. I think ACAB ought to stand for ‘Are Cops All Boneheads?’”

Jean laughed. “But you’re very smart, Javert.”  
  
“Yes, and so are several of my co-workers. But it seems we’re the minority.”

“I see. Javert, would you like to walk through the park?”

“Yes, that should be nice.”

Jean nodded and led Javert to take a left turn on the main road. “I feel like that’s true of many professions, though. When I worked, too many of my colleagues seemed to have no common sense.”

“Where did you work, anyway?”

“Oh, I’ve done all kinds of things,” Jean said. “But when I was younger, I used to do landscaping work. A lack of common sense is incredibly dangerous when you’re up high in a tree, or when you’ve got all manner of sharp tools.”

“I can imagine,” Javert said.

“I was in many ways a really stupid young man, but I’m proud to say I never injured myself on the job,” Jean avowed.

“How were you stupid?” Javert asked.

“Well, maybe not _stupid_ , per se, but definitely reckless. And not very respectful.”  
  
“You, not respectful?” Javert couldn’t imagine that.

“Yeah. I used to be a real bully in school. Kept skipping class, too. Ended up flunking out of high school entirely.”

Javert was perplexed. “But you’re nothing like that now. You’re anything but that.”

“Yes, thankfully.”

“How?”

Jean chuckled. “People change, Javert.”

“But not that much.”  
  
“Well, I got a serious wake up call. And then I found God.”

Javert frowned. “What do you mean, ‘a serious wake up call’?”

Jean was looking away. “I’d rather not go into too much detail. It’s a… really painful memory. Essentially, I lost everything and I realized I needed to change my ways or I’d be miserable forever.”

Javert cocked his head. He had so many questions, but Jean didn’t want to talk about it, so he couldn’t ask them. He wondered why Jean had brought it up in the first place if he didn’t want to talk about it. “I see.”

There was a moment of silence before Jean looked back at Javert. “I apologize for making everything sad like that. I don’t know what made me start blabbing about my past,” Jean said, chuckling slightly. Javert noticed he didn’t seem entirely happy.

“It’s alright, Jean. We don’t always need to talk about happy things, you know.”

“Very true. But it seems too soon to be regaling you with stories of my turbulent young adulthood.”

Javert rolled his eyes. “There you go again, with ‘it’s too soon’.”

“Do you not agree?”

“I’ve never cared for or understood silly rules like that.”

“But… You’re a police officer. I thought you were all about silly rules.”

Javert’s eyes widened. “The law is not ‘silly rules’,” Javert said defensively. “At least most laws aren’t. Laws are logical.”  
  
“You’re right; sorry,” Jean said.

Javert paid him no heed and continued: “–And there’s no logic in silly social rules, like ‘don’t talk about anything serious with a new romantic partner’ and ‘don’t be upfront about anything’ and ‘don’t fiddle with things’.”

Jean was silent for a moment. “You don’t think those things are logical?”

“No, not at all!” Javert exclaimed. He took a deep breath. “But that’s… Mostly because I’m autistic.”

“You’re what?”

“Autistic.”

Jean was silent again. Oh, no. Did he not understand? “Oh… Really? You don’t –”

“– I don’t seem autistic? Because I can speak clearly and fluently? Because I have a job and can take care of myself?” Javert snapped. “I know. I’ve heard it all before.”

Jean seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’ve just… I’ve never met an adult with autism before. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Javert sighed. “Of course you didn’t. No one ever means to offend me.”

Jean didn’t reply. He obviously didn’t know what to say.  
  
“I’m not mad at you,” Javert said. “It’s not your fault you don’t know much about autistic people.”

“Okay. I just… I don’t know how to treat you…”

“The same as you have been treating me.”

“Really? I don’t need to…?”  
  
“You don’t need to do anything.”

“Are you sure? I mean, there was a child in Cosette’s class in elementary school suffering from autism, and there was a whole different way to talk to him…”  
Javert elected to ignore Jean’s phrasing. “I’m sure there was, Jean. But everyone is different.”

“That’s true. But you’ll tell me if I’m doing something wrong…?”

“Yes, Jean.”

He nodded. “Good.”

There was a moment for which neither man spoke. Javert felt he ought not to have brought this up. Jean obviously only thought autism was for little boys playing with toy trains and spewing science facts.

“Would you like to sit down for a bit?” Jean said. He gestured to a park bench under a tree. It seemed like a rather nice place to sit.  
  
“Sure,” Javert replied.

They walked towards it and sat down. Jean pulled his arm away from Javert’s.

It was starting to register with Javert that he was cold. Quite cold. He did wish he had chosen a different jacket to wear. Well, he would have to last until he got home.

“Are you cold, Javert?” Jean asked. He sure was observant.

“No, I’m fine,” Javert lied.

“You’re shivering,” Jean pointed out, slightly worried.

“I’m just fine, Jean,” Javert insisted.

“Would you like my coat?”

Javert glanced at Jean’s grey wool coat. It looked quite warm. Still, he couldn’t accept it. “I don’t need it. Besides, if you give me your coat, you’ll be cold.”

“No, I won’t be. I have a sweater on underneath.” Jean took his coat off. “See?” He held it out to Javert. “I can tell you’re cold. Just take it.”

Javert eyed the coat but shook his head. “Jean, it’s kind of you to offer, but I really don’t need–”

Jean draped the coat over Javert’s shoulders. “Take it, you stubborn rascal.”  
  
Javert blushed. “Jean–”

He was abruptly cut off by Jean leaning in and kissing him. Javert’s eyes widened in surprise. He felt a gentle touch on the back of his head and he started to relax into the kiss.

It was very nice, as it had been the night prior. But something about Jean sneaking a kiss like that was even better.

Unfortunately, it did not last long. Jean pulled away rather soon. “Well, Javert, we are in public,” Jean muttered.

Javert hummed in disappointment. “No one’s here,” he protested.

“But I don’t want to risk scandalising anyone with the sight of two old men making out.”

Javert chuckled. “Fair enough. I suppose that’s not something I would like to see, either.”

Jean was smiling. Javert loved his smile, and the way it crinkled the corners of his light brown eyes. Javert felt warm. It was indeed because of the coat Jean had forced on him, but it was something else as well. It was Jean’s very presence, really.

“So you want to keep the coat on, I presume?” Jean asked.

“Well, since it’s on me, I might as well.”

Jean shook his head, still smiling. “You’re the most uncooperative, headstrong person I’ve ever met. And somehow that’s endearing.”

“Is it?” Javert asked, grinning.

“Yes. It really shouldn’t be. But here you are, making me swoon over your pigheadedness.”

Javert chuckled. “Well,” he said, and leaned towards the other man; “oink,” he whispered in Jean’s ear.

Jean burst into laughter, causing Javert to smile wide.

“Oh, Javert, you’re… You’re a treasure,” Jean said quietly.

“As are you, Jean.”

***

Jean and Javert arrived outside Javert’s apartment quite late. They hadn’t wanted to part ways… Well, they still didn’t. But the both of them were tired, and Javert had work in the morning.

“Well,” Javert started.

Jean smiled at the other man. “Well,” he agreed.

“This was… good.”

Jean nodded. “It certainly was.” He paused for a moment. Would it be too much to… No. Javert didn’t care for silly social protocol. “Would you like to go out again tomorrow night?”

“I would indeed, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to, what with the new case I’ve just undertaken,” Javert said.

“Ah. I understand.” Jean tried not to let himself look too disappointed.

“I’ll try to text you at my break tomorrow. Perhaps I will be available in the evening after all.”

Jean smiled slightly. “Okay.”

Javert smiled a little as well.

The two men looked at each other in silence for a long moment. Jean cleared his throat. “Well…”

Javert nodded. “Well,” he agreed.

“Goodnight, Javert” Jean said.

“Goodnight,” Javert replied.

Jean stepped closer and stood on his toes to kiss Javert. He only intended for it to be a quick peck, but as he attempted to pull away, Javert followed. A blush heated Jean’s cheeks at this, but he kept kissing the other man. A little sigh escaped Javert’s lips; Jean’s eyes popped open. This was far too intimate for being outside! He ducked away, forcing himself out of the embrace.  
  
“We’re still in public, Javert,” Jean whispered.

“I don’t particularly care,” Javert admitted.

“Well I don’t want…”

“–To scandalize anyone. I remember.”

“Or to be spied on.”

Javert sighed. “Okay, fine.”

Jean nodded. “Alright. Have a lovely night, Javert.”

“Goodnight, Jean.”

Finally, Jean made his way back home. It was quite chilly; he wondered why he felt so cold. Regardless, his warm feelings for Javert would keep him toasty all the way home.


	9. The Return of the Coat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back again! 
> 
> This chapter was a weird one for me. Last chapter marked the end of what I had already planned out in my head in terms of the progression of this fic. This chapter went through 4 versions that were extremely contrasting in mood, and each would have taken the story in a completely different direction. I settled on keeping things lighter and fluffier in this fic; I hope y'all are happy with the choice (and that I don't regret it lol)
> 
> I'd just like to say that, even though I don't reply to every comment, I really really appreciate all the love and support I'm receiving on this fic! It makes me so happy to know that people are reading and enjoying this weird little thing. :) Thank you so much!

Javert realized once he entered his apartment that he still had Jean’s coat with him. He quickly took out his phone. 

> **Jean, I forgot to give you your coat back. (10:42 pm)**

He felt a buzz in Jean’s coat pocket. Oh dear. He fished around in it, and sure enough, Jean’s phone was in there. He sighed. He rushed to the window to look out; perhaps Jean had realized he’d left his coat… Javert had a clear view to the front of the building, but he saw no sign of Jean.

Well. He didn’t have Jean’s home phone number, email, or any other way of contacting him. What was he to do?

The phone buzzed again, and Javert glanced at it. It was a text from Cosette, Jean’s daughter. There was a pink heart emoji and a blonde princess emoji next to her contact name.

> _So how was the walk? (10:47 pm)_

Hmm, perhaps he could reach Jean through her. He swiped on the notification. The phone was locked with a password. Javert frowned. This wasn’t ideal.

Javert thought for a moment. It was a 4-digit numerical code. Jean didn’t seem like the kind of person to have a complex, hard-to-guess password. Perhaps his year or date of birth?  Jean was sixty-five years old, and he was born in March. That would mean his birth year was 1952. He tried “1952”. Nope. He didn’t happen to know Jean’s exact birthday…

Javert walked to the kitchen and sat down at the table. He took his laptop out of his messenger bag, placed it in front of him, and opened it. He quickly signed in and waited for his old, slow PC to boot up. Once it did, he opened a Google Chrome window. He remembered Jean mentioning that he had Facebook… He Googled “Jean Fauchelevent”, and, sure enough, the man’s facebook profile came up. He clicked on it, and, though Javert did not have a Facebook account, and Jean’s privacy settings didn’t allow Javert to see very much of his profile, he was still able to see basic information. His birthday was March 30th, 1952.

Javert intended to close the window, but he couldn’t help himself but click on Jean’s profile picture. It was something between laughable and absolutely gorgeous… In the photo, Jean was seated cross-legged on a carefully-maintained lawn, in front of a beautiful garden. He was wearing a crown made of flowers twisted together at the stems, and he was smiling brightly. In the bright summer sun of the photo, his eyes seemed to sparkle, and his freckles were much more obvious than usual. Javert couldn’t help himself but save the photo to his computer. Creepy, perhaps, but it was such a lovely photo…

Before he could do anything else questionable, Javert closed the tab. He picked up Jean’s phone and tried “3003”... It didn’t work. Well, it was worth a shot. And he got to see that picture of Jean.

Perhaps his phone password was his daughter’s birthday? That would make sense.

He Googled “Cosette Fauchelevent”. He found a Twitter account attached to that name, and based on the profile picture, it appeared to indeed belong to Jean’s daughter. In her bio, it had “1995 baby; Aries Sun, Gemini Moon”. Oh. Astrology. Lovely. And no birthdate.

Javert tried “1995” as the password, but that didn’t work. He sighed and resigned himself to figuring out Cosette’s birth date.

Surprisingly, Javert knew quite a bit about astrology. He didn’t believe one word of it, but his mother had been a fortune teller. Some of the first books Javert had read as a child were on astrology, since that’s what had been around the house. Aries meant she was born from March twenty-first to April nineteenth. Backwards calculation of birth date through moon sign was something Javert didn’t know– or care to know – how to do, so he Googled “Astrological moon chart 1995.” According to the chart, the moon only passed through the Gemini constellation once under the Aries sun sign: from April third to April fourth.

Javert tried 0304. Incorrect. He tried 0404. To his utmost relief, the phone unlocked. He quickly closed the tabs he’d just opened. He hoped he never had to think about Astrology that much ever again.

He was greeted by a home screen that was… a picture of him? It was the one Jean had taken of him the night before, while trying to prove that Javert had dimples. He was slightly puzzled. This wasn’t a good picture of him (not that were really any good pictures of Javert). He had no idea Jean would want Javert as his phone wallpaper. He felt flattered.

He opened the messages app. He noticed that next to the contact name “Javert”, there was a heart emoji. He blushed. He felt he was snooping. He quickly opened the conversation with Cosette and started to type a message.

> **Hello, Cosette. This is Javert.**

What if Cosette didn’t recognize his name?

> **Hello, Cosette. This is Javert, the man you set your father up with.**

That was strange wording. Also, he was fairly certain Cosette didn’t know he knew what happened, and that Jean wouldn’t want him to reveal it in this way.

> **Hello, Cosette. This is Javert, your father’s**

What? What were they? His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, uncertain. The phone suddenly buzzed.

> _Helloooooo? I know you read the message!!! (10:58 pm)_

Well, he couldn’t spend anymore time dallying. He figured Cosette would recognize his name; Jean had said he’d told his daughter all about him, anyway.

> **Hello, Cosette. This is Javert. Your father left his coat and his phone with me and I have no other way of reaching him. (10:59 pm)**

The texting bubble appeared and disappeared a couple times.

> _Oh, hi Javert! (11:01 pm)_
> 
> _That does sound like something he would do (11:02 pm)_
> 
> _I’ll call his home phone and see if he picks up (11:02 pm)_
> 
> **Okay. (11:03 pm)**

Javert put the phone down. At least he had made contact with her. A few minutes later, he got another text.

> _He didn’t pick up. He’s probably asleep (11:06 pm)_
> 
> _Do you know his address? You could just drop it off tomorrow morning (11:06 pm)_
> 
> _He wakes up early so it shouldn’t be an issue (11:07 pm)_

Javert thought for a moment. That probably wouldn’t work.

> **I have to go to work early tomorrow morning, and my lunch break isn’t long** **enough to go to his place then. (11:09 pm)**
> 
> **Maybe he could come by the police station during my lunch break. (11:10 pm)**

It was a moment before Cosette replied again.

> _I don’t know, he’s weirdly uneasy about police stations. (11:11 pm)_

Javert furrowed his brow.

> **Huh. Do you know why? (11:12 pm)**
> 
> _I don’t really know, tbh (11:14 pm)_
> 
> _I think it’s cause of what happened when he adopted me… Someone accused him of having bad intentions with me. He is totally innocent of course, but it took a long time and a lot of police intervention for it to be solved (11:15 pm)_
> 
> _Maybe he’ll tell you more if you ask gently, but he’s REALLY touchy about the past (11:16 pm)_

Hmm. Interesting. Maybe that was the wake-up call Jean had mentioned earlier that evening?

> **I see. What should we do instead? (11:18 pm)**
> 
> _I have a pretty long break between my classes tomorrow (11:18 pm)_
> 
> _I could come pick it up? (11:19 pm)_
> 
> **Alright. That should work. (11:20pm)**

Javert confirmed the address of the police station with Cosette, as well as the time of his lunch break. He also gave her his phone number, just in case.

With that out of the way, he finally went to bed. Tomorrow was likely to be a long day.

***

“–And what about Monsieur Jondrette?” Javert asked his colleague. “Did you find any of his story to be, well… Suspicious?”

Lieutenant Trépannier shrugged and leant forward in his chair. “Unusual, perhaps. But not necessarily suspicious. Why, did you?”

“Yes, actually. His description of the man he saw enter the victim’s house was stunningly vague, yet he seemed adamant that he’d recognize the suspect if he saw him again.”

“Well, it was vague, yes. But I don’t see how that is necessarily suspicious. Isn’t it reasonable to only have a fuzzy mental picture of someone you’ve only seen once, but if you saw them again, you’d know who they were?”

Javert frowned. “I suppose. But there was something odd about his whole account. I’m not sure I trust him.”

Trépannier laughed and clapped Javert’s shoulder, causing the Inspector to twitch almost imperceptibly. “You’re too quick to make judgements, Javert. Relax a little, will you?”

“I’m not making a _judgement,_ Lieutenant. I’m simply voicing my suspicions.” The other man’s hand was still resting on his shoulder. Javert didn’t like how often Trépannier touched him casually like this.

Finally, the offending hand was removed. “Fair enough,” he said.

Javert felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He took it out; it was Cosette telling him she’d arrived.

“If you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant,” Javert said, standing. “I have to attend to something. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Alright. I suppose we ought to break for lunch, anyway,” Trépannier answered. “We’ll get back to work at 1:30.”

Javert nodded. “Alright.” He walked to the other side of the office, where he had hung Jean’s coat on the coat rack. He grabbed it and left the room.

A familiar-looking young blonde woman was sitting in the waiting area.

“Good afternoon, Cosette,” he greeted.

She looked up, smiling. “Hey, Javert!” Cosette stood up from her chair. “Wow, you’re… taller than I expected,” she pointed out.

Javert smirked slightly. He found this amusing, but he didn’t know how to reply. “Well. Here’s the coat,” he said, holding it out to Cosette. She took it. “His phone is safe in an inside pocket. I didn’t find anything else in it.”

“Thanks, Javert.” She cleared her throat and added, sotto voce: “Also… my father wanted me to ask you if you were free this evening.”

Javert frowned. “Unfortunately, I am not. I am very busy with the case I’m working on and I most likely won’t be able to see him for the rest of the week.”

Cosette frowned as well. “Ah, okay.”

Javert nodded. He felt there was something more he ought to say. However, he had no idea what. It seemed Cosette was feeling similarly; she was shuffling her feet awkwardly and looking around.

He cleared his throat.

Cosette seemed to be alerted to the fact that there was no more conversation to be had. “Well, thanks for returning the coat.”

“It was no problem.”

She nodded and started to back away. “Bye, Javert!”

“Goodbye, Cosette.”

He watched her leave, and suddenly he realized there was indeed something else. “Wait, Cosette, there’s one more thing–” He followed her quickly.

She stopped just short of the door. “Yes?”

“Uh… Tell your father that… I’ll still be available on Saturday and I’d love to see him then.”

Cosette grinned. “Okay, will do! He’ll be so glad to hear that.”

Javert nodded with a little smile. “Thank you.”

“Have a good day!” she said, opening the door.

“You too.”

Cosette left properly this time, and Javert returned to his office.

*** 

Javert was exhausted when he got home that evening. It was a long, gruelling day, and tomorrow would likely be the same story. He stripped himself of his work clothes and climbed into bed without bothering to even brush his teeth.

He expected sleep to come almost instantly, but somehow, as tired as he was, he couldn’t drift off. His mind was swimming with details of the case and he couldn’t seem to put those thoughts away.

Eventually, he found his phone on the ground in his heap of clothes, intending to find some mindless entertainment to put him to sleep.

But there was a text from Jean:

> _Thanks for your help in returning my things! I honestly didn’t even realize I was missing my coat and phone. I really am scatterbrained! I’m glad I have you to keep me sorted. :P (1:32 pm)_
> 
> _Also, Cosette told me you’ll be busy until Saturday. That’s too bad. But I’m looking forward to catching up then! Let me know if there’s anything in particular you want to do. (1:36 pm)_

Javert smiled. This was a pleasant surprise.

> **You’re most welcome. Keeping scatterbrained people in line is one of my specialties.**
> 
> **About Saturday, I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but I doubt I will have the energy for a great adventure. I’d prefer something more laid back. (12:32 am)**

Javert put his phone down onto his lap. He began to imagine what he and Jean could get up to on Saturday. Perhaps they could do something similar to what they had done on Tuesday, and simply lounge around together, cuddling and kissing… That would be lovely.

He wasn’t expecting to feel his phone buzz, and even less for there to already be a reply from Jean.

> _My goodness, Javert! You’re up late! I thought you had work in the morning. (12:34 am)_

Javert smirked. Of course Jean was concerned that he was staying up.

> **I do. But I can’t get to sleep. I don’t know why. I came home exhausted but I’m just not able to sleep. (12:36 am)**
> 
> _Oh, poor you! I hate that feeling. :( (12:37 am)_
> 
> **Say, Jean, why are you up at this hour? (12:38 am)**
> 
> _I can’t sleep either. I’ve been watching Netflix. (12:40 am)_
> 
> **Ah. (12:40 am)**
> 
> _So, about Saturday… Would you like to come over to my house for dinner? (12:42 am)_

Javert grinned to himself. Jean seemed to be coming out of his shell at last.

> **I’d love to. (12:43 am)**
> 
> _Great! :) (12:43 am)_
> 
> **I’m glad to see you’re no longer being overly cautious with your date ideas. (12:44 am)**
> 
> _Yes, I’ve finally realized dinner at my place isn’t exactly scandalous. :P (12:45 am)_
> 
> _What kind of things do you like to eat, Javert? (12:46 am)_

He frowned slightly. This question was inevitable, but unwanted.

> **Well, I should warn you, I’m not exactly an adventurous eater. (12:47 am)**

This was an understatement.

> **I do tend to like things like rice and pasta. (12:47 am)**
> 
> _Oh, okay! That’s fine. (12:48 pm)_
> 
> _How do you feel about lasagna? I’ve been told I make a great one :) (12:48 pm)_
> 
> **That sounds good. (12:48 pm)**
> 
> _Wonderful! (12:49 pm)_
> 
> _Will you mind if I make it with vegetarian ground beef? I’m vegetarian. (12:49 am)_

Javert didn’t know this. Perhaps this contributed to Jean’s fitness.

> **Does it taste like tofu? If so, I’m going to have to pass. (12:50 am)**
> 
> _Haha, no, don’t worry! :) There’s not much of a noticeable difference when it’s in a dish. At least not for me. Maybe you’d be able to taste it…. Are you really sensitive to that kind of stuff? (12:51 am)_
> 
> **Yes, quite. But if you don’t think it’s that big of a difference, I would be willing to try. (12:52 am)**
> 
> _Are you sure? I’ve been reading up on autism. I wouldn’t want to give you food that would be a sensory issue for you. It’s really not a problem… I could make two smaller lasagnas, one for me, and one for you with regular ground beef. :) (12:54 am)_

Javert knew Jean was caring, but the fact that he’d been doing _research_ on Javert’s disorder was still surprising, not to mention heartwarming.

> **Unless the taste is completely bizarre, there shouldn’t be an issue. (12:55 am)**
> 
> **And I appreciate your concern, Jean. Very much. (12:55 am)**
> 
> _Okay. :) Also, it’s the least I can do. I can’t help but want to rectify my ignorance after last night. (12:56 am)_
> 
> **That means a lot to me. Thank you. (12:57 am)**
> 
> _You’re very welcome, dear. :) (12:57 am)_

Javert blushed. He was pretty sure that was the first time Jean had used a pet name for him. And even though it was “dear”– probably the least saucy thing to be called – he felt warm.

> _Javert, do you have any special tricks to help yourself fall asleep? (12:58 am)_
> 
> **No, not particularly. (12:58 am)**
> 
> _Darn. I’ve already had chamomile tea, then I read and watched TV. I’m still not falling asleep. I’m running low on options. (12:58 am)_
> 
> **Well, the only trick I have is the tried and true method I’ve used since I was a teenager. (12:59 am)**
> 
> _And that is? (12:59 am)_
> 
> **Oh, you know. What young men do when they can’t fall asleep? (1:00 am)**
> 
> _No, I don’t know. What do you mean? (1:01 am)_

Oh. Of course Jean wouldn’t catch his drift. He immediately regretted his attempt at humour.

> **Never mind. I was trying to make a joke and it evidently fell flat. (1:02 am)**
> 
> _No, Javert, tell me! What do young men do when they can’t fall asleep? (1:02 am)_

Javert sighed.

> **Masturbate. (1:03 am)**

Jean didn’t respond for a while and Javert feared he’d fucked up.

> _Oh. (1:05 am)_
> 
> _Of course, haha. (1:05 am)_
> 
> **I’m sorry. That was crude. (1:06 am)**
> 
> _Don’t apologize. What you said was true. (1:07 am)_
> 
> _Besides, masturbation is normal and healthy. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. (1:07 am)_

Javert swallowed, his cheeks flushed. Sure, he’d wanted to discuss more intimate topics with Jean, but not like this. Certainly not like this.

> **I’m glad you do not agree with Catholic doctrine that it is a sin. (1:08 am)**
> 
> _No, definitely not. (1:08 am)_
> 
> _As long as no one else is implicated against their will, it’s not hurting anyone. (1:09 am)_

Javert didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to press further; turn the conversation in a more interesting direction – ask Jean’s opinion on sex toys, perhaps? Or reveal how often he pleasured himself…  But the larger, smarter part of him knew this wouldn’t be a good idea.

> _So, no other ideas? There’s no magic mantra I can chant that will make me pass out? (1:10 am)_
> 
> **Certainly not that I know of. (1:10 am)**
> 
> _Haha, rats. :P Well, I’m going to try to get to sleep now. Thanks again for returning my things. Hopefully we can text more tomorrow! (1:11 am)_
> 
> **Alright. Yes, I’ll try to keep in touch with you during breaks. And you’re welcome again. (1:11 am)**
> 
> _Goodnight, dear! :* (1:12 am)_

Oh, my; there he went with “dear” again. And a kissing emoji.

> **Goodnight, Jean. (1:12 am)**

Javert put his phone down again, this time on his nightstand. He snuggled into the pillow and closed his eyes, finally feeling ready to sleep. He allowed himself to think of Jean lying next to him, holding him as they both drifted off. Soon, he was asleep.


	10. The Statue in the Town Square

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I don't have much to say about this chapter, other than I hope you enjoy Jean's absolute dad-ness as much as Javert does. 
> 
> Also, school's done (save for two exams) for me, so I hope to churn this out a little quicker now. I won't make any promises, though, because that isn't fair to you readers. But that is my intention! I absolutely adore writing this fic and I have absolutely no intentions of abandoning it or dropping it. 
> 
> Thank you all again for your reads, comments, kudos, and all manner of support. It means more to me than the approval of internet strangers should. I appreciate each and every one of you and I am honoured that you take time out of your day to read my work. It makes my day so much better whenever I get a notification about this.
> 
> My sincerest thanks, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

****It was early afternoon on Saturday. Jean was obsessively cleaning every single visible surface of his already tidy house, making sure that there was not a single speck of dust or crooked picture frame that could somehow cause Javert to think less of him.

He and Javert had decided that, since this was the only day of the week they could be sure they’d spend together, to make the most of it. Javert was coming over mid-afternoon, and they would relax together until Jean had to make dinner. While he did that, Javert would get ahead on some work. Then they’d eat dinner and stay together during the evening. It was all perfectly planned and Jean was incredibly excited.

Also nervous, for some reason. This seemed like such an important step in their budding relationship, and he most definitely did not want to mess anything up. In addition to a spotless house, he wanted to serve a perfect dinner, and look his best (without appearing to have tried too hard). Jean settled on a nice pair of pants and a light blue striped button-up shirt. He had trimmed his beard –making sure there was not the slightest trace of stubble on his neck – and spent an unnecessarily long time on combing his hair so that every individual strand was in the correct place.

This was stressful. He knew deep down he ought not to be this worked up. He and Javert were already fairly comfortable with each other. But still… He wanted this to be perfect.

He had barely put away all his cleaning supplies when he got a text from Javert:

> _I’m almost at your place. (1:27 pm)_

Jean’s eyes widened. He glanced around nervously, half expecting to suddenly notice some massive, embarrassing mess.

> **Yay! I can’t wait to see you! :) (1:28 pm)**

Jean stowed his phone in his pocket and rushed around his house again, triple-checking that everything was in its proper place.

A couple minutes later, the doorbell rang. He walked to open the door.

Javert stood in the doorway. He was wearing dark jeans and a plain t-shirt. His hair was tied back in a messy sort of bun that was oddly adorable. Jean smiled.

“Hello, Javert,” he greeted, moving out of the way of the door. “Please, come in.”

Javert stepped inside. “Good afternoon,” he greeted.

“Let me take your coat for you…” Jean offered. Javert pushed the strap of his messenger bag off his shoulder and placed the bag on the floor for a moment so that he could take off his coat. Once this was done, he handed his coat to Jean who carefully hung it on the rack.

Once Jean turned around again, he grinned widely and enveloped Javert in a big bear hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

Javert was stiff for a moment, but he soon relaxed into the hug and brought his arms up to Jean’s back to return it. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Even though it’s only been a couple days,” Jean remarked, “It feels like longer.”

“Yes, these past few days have felt like a lifetime.”

Jean pulled away, but Javert leaned in, folding himself over slightly to kiss the shorter man. Jean blushed hard, not expecting this. It wasn’t a little peck, either; it was a full kiss. Jean stood on his toes to take some strain off Javert, and kissed back. Javert hummed and started rubbing at his waist and back.

Jean felt very warm. Javert was trying to sneak his tongue in and Jean felt, somehow, that it was way too soon for this. Even though they’d done this before. And they were in private…

But no. Jean closed his lips and pulled back, giving the other man a little peck on the cheek before stepping away entirely to hold Javert at arms’ length.

“I’m very happy to see you,” Jean said.

He was certain he saw a flicker of disappointment in the other man’s eyes, but it was soon concealed. “As am I.”

After a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence, Jean piped up again. “Shall we sit down? It seems awkward to stand here by the doorway.”

The other man nodded, picking up his bag. “Yes, that would make sense.”

Jean led Javert to the living room.

“You have a very nice place,” Javert pointed out.

“Well, thank you.”

“Much nicer than I was expecting.”

They arrived made their way to a grey sectional couch that was next to the fireplace.

“What do you mean by that?” Jean asked, sitting down near the middle, giving Javert plenty of room. He placed his bag down on the couch and sat next to Jean, quite close.

“I was under the impression that you weren’t this wealthy.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m not wealthy, Javert. I am fortunate, yes, but–”

“–This is a fairly large house in a very good neighbourhood in one of the most attractive cities to live in,” Javert interrupted. “It seems quite old. Lots of stone and brick. Hardwood floors. Open plan. Large front and back yards. You’re no billionaire, sure, but this house tells me you’re doing quite well for yourself.”

He blushed. “Well, yes, I suppose…”

“May I look around?” he asked, standing– seeming to have already decided to take a look.

“Yes, of course,” Jean answered.

Javert walked to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked at what was on the mantle. “Are these real silver?” Javert asked about the candlesticks.

“Yes, as far as I’m aware.”

“Incredible. How much did they cost?”

“They were a gift.”

“Ah. Must have been quite the occasion.”

“They were from an… old mentor of mine,” Jean explained. “A very extravagant gift, yeah.”

“Evidently.” Javert’s gaze shifted to the framed photos on the mantle. “This must be your daughter and her husband on their wedding day.”

“Yes.”

Javert didn’t seem very interested in this photo, nor in the others on the mantle; Cosette’s high school graduation photo, a picture of Cosette as a child. He kept walking, observing the artwork and photos on the wall as if he was in a museum.

Unsurprisingly, he was most interested in the photos of Jean. He asked the occasional question of when and where the photo was taken, and Jean supplied him answers. Eventually, Javert came to the wall on which Jean had displayed his own achievements.

“A Bachelor’s degree in business, huh?” Javert pointed out. He looked down further. Jean had framed several cutouts from newspapers about the success of his business in Montreuil, and his mayorship of eighteen years. Javert was scanning them, his eyes widening the more he read.

Jean shifted in his seat. Did it seem self-absorbed to have all these newspaper cutouts praising him? Probably. He knew he should have hid them before Javert came over.

“You started a successful bead-making business that completely jumpstarted the economy of Montreuil, you were mayor of the town for three terms and greatly changed everything there for the better, and people were disappointed when you resigned,” Javert said, almost confused. He turned to Jean, puzzled.

“Yes,” Jean confirmed bashfully.

“This whole time I believed you were some nobody,” Javert said. “But you– I–” Javert shook his head in disbelief. “You’re–” He squinted at one of the newspaper articles. “There’s a statue of you in the town square of Montreuil!”

Jean nodded. “Well, yes, there is. It’s not in the _centre_ of the town square or anything. And it’s not that big, or that nice. It’s just a metal one, next to a bench. Not that I’m not incredibly grateful, goodness knows I am, but it’s not like I’m cast in gold next to the king or something.”

Javert looked at the other man and blinked. “There’s a goddamn statue of you. In a town square.”

The older man didn’t know what to say to that, so he only nodded again.

Javert walked back to the couch and sat down next to Jean, squinting at him.

“Javert…?” Jean started.

“Are you… Real?” Javert said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“It was unbelievable enough that a kind, funny, caring, intelligent, outrageously attractive man would be even remotely interested in me. But it turns out he’s also a reasonably wealthy ex-mayor is was almost universally loved,” Javert explained. “Am I going to wake up? Am I on some crazy drug right now?”

Jean chuckled. “Come on, Javert. I’m no superhero. I’m just a regular old man with a past in local politics.”

“Why aren’t you dating a young supermodel or something? Or at least someone of equal status to you? Why stoop to the level of an altogether average, lonely, middle-class, autistic, workaholic, cop?”

“Don’t be silly, Javert. I’m not shallow. I see you as much more than your class and your profession,” he said, grabbing Javert’s hand gently.

Javert looked at their hands, still seeming to be in disbelief. “You’re the kind of man that isn’t supposed to be real. You’re an honest-to-God Prince Charming.”

“I’m flattered. But I’m not a prince, Javert.”

“At least there’s that. I was half expecting your next reveal to be that you have royal blood.”

He laughed. “Oh, dear. No. My heritage is about as far from royal as it can get.”

Javert looked the other man in the eyes. “I just hope that now you don’t believe I’m showing so much interest in you because of your money.”

“Oh, not at all,” Jean assured him. “That never crossed my mind.”

Javert thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. “I suppose it was very smart of you to conceal it, in case I was a gold digger.”

“That… wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to seem like I was bragging.”

Javert smirked, exhaling a small laugh. “Of course. That’s so very Jean Fauchelevent of you.”

Jean rubbed the back of Javert’s hand with his thumb. “What is, not bragging?”

“The irrational worry that everything you say or do will offend someone or be taken the wrong way, and a resulting cautiousness that can be ridiculous at times.”

“I wouldn’t say I–”

Javert shot a look at the other man, raising a brow.

Jean looked down. “Well… Yes, I suppose that’s fairly accurate, yes. Very… Really accurate.”

Javert said nothing, but Jean could feel the man’s gaze on him.

“You know me very well for only having known me a week,” Jean said.

“Has it really only been a week?” Javert asked.

“Yes. To the day.”

“Hmm. Feels like quite a bit longer.”

“Does it?”

“Yes. But at the same time, I believe it’s only been a week. It feels kind of like I’ve known you for decades, but also that I’ve just met you.”

Jean looked up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” Javert shrugged. “But that’s how I feel.”

“Huh,” Jean muttered. “I… think I understand what you mean, somehow.”

Jean was looking into Javert’s bright blue eyes, and the other man was looking back, his gaze not quite holding Jean’s own. It shifted between his eyes and elsewhere on his face and body. Jean had noticed this about Javert before, but now knew it was because of his autism. It didn’t bother Jean, anyway.

He leaned forward to wrap his arms around Javert in a warm hug. “I’m very glad you could come today.”

“Me, too,” Javert answered.

***

Javert was sitting at Jean’s dining room table with his laptop, working on a report. He had barely gotten started when Jean appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry to bother you, Javert, but, before I get started, I’d like you to taste something…”

Javert looked at him. “I would think there’s nothing for me to taste if you haven’t started yet.”

“It’s the vegetarian ground beef. I want to make sure you’re okay with it.”

“Ah. Right. I’ll try some.”

The other man approached him with a small dish that had some little bits of meat-like substance. Javert looked at it, considering it carefully. It didn’t _look_ disgusting. He gingerly reached in and touched it, picking it up with his thumb and forefingers. It felt quite a bit like regular ground beef. He held it to his nose. It smelled… It didn’t have much of a smell. It smelled like something edible.

He was aware of Jean watching him, surprised the man wasn’t rushing him.

Javert put the little bit in his mouth, chewing carefully. It was surprisingly similar to meat. The texture was slightly granier, but nothing disturbing. It tasted kind of meaty, but less so than meat, understandably. It wasn’t delicious, but Javert wouldn’t be eating it on its own anyway. He nodded.

“It’s alright.”

“Just ‘alright’? Do you want me to use real meat instead?” Jean asked him.

Javert swallowed and shook his head. “No, certainly not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Jean smiled, evidently relieved. “Good. Thank you!” He walked back into the kitchen.

“Don’t mention it.” Javert turned his attention back to his laptop.

He was typing away, starting to make a little progress. Not minutes later, Jean had turned on the radio to some older pop songs, and was quietly singing along to the Beegees as he worked on dinner.

Curious, Javert leaned back in his chair to get a view of the kitchen. Jean was dancing a little as he chopped vegetables. Javert smirked. It was incredibly dorky and just as endearing, watching him bob back and forth to the music. The man had put on a white apron, too. The whole scene was decidedly amusing. Almost an entire minute had gone by before Jean noticed he was being watched.

“Oh, Javert–” he stuttered, blushing. “I’m sorry, am I distracting you?”

The inspector shook his head. “No, I just couldn’t help but notice you.”

He blushed even more. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll tone it down.”

“Please don’t feel the need to do that,” Javert said.

Jean smiled awkwardly and went back to his chopping in silence.

Javert looked back to his laptop. A few minutes later, Javert heard Jean’s quiet singing resume. He smiled to himself, but elected not to watch, for fear of embarrassing Jean further. Instead, he just imagined Jean’s foot tapping the beat, lost in the music.

But he wasn’t content on just imagining it. He quietly pushed his chair back until he could see into the kitchen again. Now, Jean was boiling the pasta, watching the pot and swaying his hips from side to side to the music while tapping the counter with one hand. Javert was glad he was watching. As soon as Jean moved to turn, however, Javert quickly leaned forward again to hide his eavesdropping.

And so the next fifteen minutes or so progressed; Javert attempting to get some work done, only to be inevitably distracted by Jean’s antics. Eventually, he stopped trying to work at all. He closed his laptop and stood up to get a full view of the other man. He wasn’t dancing, at that point, but he was hard at work assembling the lasagna while singing along to Michael Jackson under his breath, and that was just as attractive. Javert put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorway, smiling as he observed.

Jean was reaching to grab a box of aluminum foil when he caught sight of Javert. He made a rather high-pitched sound of shock, jumping up and putting a hand to his chest. “Goodness gracious, Javert. You startled me!”

Javert chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Why are you hovering in the doorway like that? Either come in or don’t!” He tore off a section of foil and covered the dish with it.

“I don’t want to be in your way.”

“You won’t be in my way unless you stand between this lasagna and the oven,” Jean assured him.

The inspector accepted this as an invitation and walked into the kitchen, past the kitchen table until he was about a metre or so away from the other man.

“Done your work already?” Jean asked, glancing his way.

“I was just taking a break,” he answered. Javert had made a pitiful amount of progress, but Jean didn’t need to know that.

“Ah, I see. I’m about to put this in the oven, so it should be ready in an hour.”

Javert looked at the clock. It was 5:47 at the moment. “Okay.”

“You’re not hungry, are you?” Jean asked.

“No, don’t worry.”

“Good, good.”

Jean opened the oven, releasing a great deal of hot air. He put on some oven mitts and carefully inserted the pan, made sure it was in the right position, and closed the oven door.

“There we go,” he said, taking his oven mitts off and putting them on the counter.

“So… you’ll just… leave it there for an hour?” Javert asked.

“Well, not exactly. I have to check it to see when the cheese is bubbling, and then, when that’s happening, take the foil off and put it back in for another bit,” he explained.

“Ah, yes. I figured it would require some babysitting.”

Jean smiled, untying the back of his apron. “Do you truly never cook for yourself, Javert?”

“Not beyond what I can microwave or boil in a pot.”

“Good heavens. You must get awfully sick of microwaved meals and soup.” Jean hung the apron on a hook on the wall.

Javert shrugged. “Not particularly. My tastes are rather bland, anyway.”

“And you wouldn’t want to learn?”

“The thought’s never crossed my mind.”

“What if I taught you? Or at least taught you enough that we could cook together?”

Javert chewed his lip. That would be nice, perhaps. “I would only slow you down.”

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” Jean said, approaching Javert. “It would be fun.”

Javert looked down at the other man. He was smiling so brightly and he looked so hopeful that Javert really couldn’t tell him no.

“Alright. We could cook together sometime.”

Jean smiled even wider. “Yay! It’ll be so much fun, Javert. I can’t wait.”

Javert smiled too. “I suppose it will be a good time.”

***

Jean had just checked the lasagna– the cheese wasn’t quite bubbling yet, so he was back at the kitchen table, reading.

He heard Javert’s quiet footsteps draw near to him, and he looked up. “Taking another break?”

“Yeah. I feel like I expected too much of myself to be able to work in your presence,” Javert admitted.

“Oh? Am I… Distracting you?” Jean asked, not really knowing how his silent reading could affect Javert’s concentration.

“No, it’s just that I can’t concentrate knowing that you’re so close, being much more interesting than my work.”

The older man chuckled. “Am I, now?”

“Yes, very much so.” Javert glanced at Jean’s book. “What are you reading?”

Jean put the book down, a little ashamed. “Oh, just a little romance novel. Nothing particularly intellectual.”

“Romance, huh?” Javert approached the table. “Between whom?”

“A single father and an elementary school teacher,” Jean answered.

“Ah. Do you read a lot of romance?”

Jean smiled slightly. “Well, yes, it’s kind of my guilty pleasure. But Cosette recommended this one to me, actually.”

“I see. Is it any good?”

Jean laughed. “To be honest… The writing is quite juvenile. But the plot is fairly good and the characters are interesting enough, so I figured I’d read it to the end.”

Javert nodded. “Based on where your bookmark is, it seems like you’re almost there.”

“Indeed,” Jean said. He checked the time on his fitbit. “I’ll take a look at the lasagna again,” he muttered, standing and walking towards the oven.

He grabbed his oven mitts and opened the oven, removing the dish and placing it on the stove. He carefully lifted the foil with a skewer he had at the ready.

“Ah, the cheese is bubbling!” he said, more to himself than to Javert. “I can uncover it now.”

In a minute or so, Valjean had finished removing the foil and had replaced the lasagna in the oven. When he took off his oven mitts and turned around, Javert was reading the book.

“Jean, this is quite the book you’re reading,” Javert said, his voice strangely animated.

“What do you mean?” Jean asked approaching him.

“It’s very… Racy.”

“‘Racy’?” Jean asked. “The most they’ve done is kiss. With tongue, I suppose, but…” Well, the language used was quite suggestive, to be fair, but nothing sexual had happened.

Javert smirked. “Well, it seems you’ve stopped reading pages before Marc and Xavier tumble passionately into Xavier’s bedroom.”

Jean gaped, blushing furiously. “There’s a _sex scene_?!”

“Well, it isn’t described. Just heavily implied.” Javert flipped a page. “And the narrative picks up shortly after they’ve done the deed.”

Jean was thoroughly embarrassed. “Oh my goodness! And Cosette recommended this to me– Cosette’s read this!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Jean. She’s an adult. And so are you. Besides, this is hardly erotica. It doesn’t even describe how big either of their–”

Jean snatched the book from Javert’s hands. “–Well. I guess I won’t be reading the end of that. Thanks for the warning.”

“Why not?” Javert asked, sounding almost disappointed.

“Because I don’t want to read smut.” He tossed the book onto the counter.

“This isn’t smut. It’s just what happens directly before and directly after the smut,” Javert clarified.

“And I don’t want to read that either!”

“How very prudish of you,” Javert remarked. “You’re missing out on some tantalizing literature.”

“I’m alright with that,” Jean said, his face hot.

“Sometimes, there’s nothing better than reading something x-rated, you know?”

Jean’s eyes widened and he looked back at Javert. “You… you read… That kind of stuff?!”

Javert crossed his arms. “Occasionally. I’m more into videos, though. What of it? Do you think it’s shameful?”

Jean felt almost lightheaded. He bit his lip, suddenly bashful. “Well, I just– I mean…” He searched his mind for something he could say.

“You think pornography is a sin, don’t you?” Javert asked, tilting his head forward and raising his eyebrows.

Jean swallowed thickly. “I-I… I wouldn’t say it is, in most cases, I think. It’s just, well, you… You didn’t strike me as the kind of person who would enjoy it.”

Javert had that salacious look of his again, and it was making Jean want to run and hide. “Ah. Well, Jean, most people have not denied themselves pleasures of the flesh as you have.”

Embarrassment and defensiveness bloomed in Jean’s gut. “Don’t mock me,” he said firmly.

Javert seemed to realize immediately that he’d overstepped a boundary. “I’m sorry, Jean. That was quite rude of me. I got carried away.”

He took a breath to calm himself, looking down. “I accept your apology.”

“I shouldn’t poke fun at your personal choices.”

“And I shouldn’t judge yours,” Jean returned.

There was a short silence. “You have every right to avoid suggestive content if it makes you uncomfortable,” Javert said.

“And you have every right to enjoy it.” Jean’s body warmed slightly. He wondered what Javert liked to read and watch. He didn’t want to know, but somehow, he did.

“That book’s badly-written, anyway,” Javert muttered after another moment, nodding his head towards the rejected paperback. “I only skimmed a few pages and it made me cringe. You’ve probably made the best choice to put it down for good.”

Jean laughed, feeling the tension in the air melt away some. “You’re right. It’s atrocious.”

“It seems as if the author believes we’ll forget the characters are male if they don’t remind us every other moment.”

“I know, right? I don’t want to see the word ‘masculine’ ever again in my life.”

Javert chuckled. “I counted three instances of that and related words already. Perhaps you should stop taking book recommendations from your young adult daughter.”

Jean sighed. “I’m going back to Brontë and Jane Austen after this.”

***

That small clash was quickly forgotten, especially when food and wine were served. Javert and Jean ate and drank together, chatting and laughing and feeling entirely mirthful. Javert thoroughly enjoyed the lasagna— he didn’t even notice the vegetarian ground beef.


	11. The Inability to Forget It Happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have anything to say, other than wow, this is fic already quite long and it's not even close to being finished.   
> And thanks for your reads, comments, and kudos, as always. :)

After dinner, Jean felt his inhibitions practically disappear. He and Javert had ended up on the couch – a different one than before; this one was more comfortable and had several fleece blankets and pillows. The two men were cuddling under one of the blankets now. Javert was leaning into Jean, who had his arm around the other. It was very nice. It was very warm as well. 

They had been chatting, but had fallen into a comfortable silence. The only sounds they could hear were ambient; soft jazz music still playing from the radio in the kitchen, the occasional car passing out front. Their slow, even breaths as they relaxed. The both of them were fairly introverted and reserved, so silence was almost always comfortable between them. It hardly ever held the expectation of words or conversation. 

However, it often held the weight of something else unspoken. Something that wasn’t meant to be said with language.

Jean was fascinated by Javert, in many ways. The man was so beautiful. His appearance was unique and striking, and he had many compelling features that Jean loved to study. At this very moment, he had become fixed on Javert’s plush lips. Then Jean’s eyes travelled to his strong, sharp jaw and his long neck and pronounced Adam’s apple, and finally the hollow where his collarbones met at the base of his neck. Then he looked back up to Javert’s lips and found them even more entrancing than before. He met Javert’s eyes. They were the kind of eyes that would be described in a romance novel as doe eyes, perhaps. They were strikingly large and bright and seemed to be able to communicate an incredible amount with a single look. Now, the lids were heavy and his look was languidly alluring. 

“Kiss me, Jean,” Javert muttered, his voice very low. 

Jean pressed his lips eagerly to the other man’s. He was met with a soft hum from Javert, who immediately pressed his tongue forward. Jean’s hands fumbled out from under the blanket and he reached for Javert’s hair. It was tied back, and Jean couldn’t easily untie it, at least not without looking. Javert understood his desire and pulled away to remove his hair elastic. 

As he did so, Jean moved forward again to kiss at Javert’s jaw.

The man reacted with a low hum, and he tilted his head back, exposing the length of his neck. 

Jean’s lips travelled over the soft flesh, slowly pressing little kisses to every inch of skin. Javert’s hands settled on his shoulders and the other man was moving to sit on Jean’s lap. The older man’s heart leapt, warmth stirring the pit of his stomach. He brought his kisses downwards as he gently touched Javert’s hair, which was now falling freely down his back. He left a long kiss on Javert’s Adam’s apple and the other man groaned softly, making the skin vibrate under Jean’s mouth. 

“More, Jean,” Javert said, soft but insistent. His deep voice made Jean shiver with delight. He migrated to the side of Javert’s neck, his kisses becoming longer, more relaxed, more open-mouthed. 

“Yes, like that,” Javert affirmed. His hands were on Jean’s shoulders, squeezing gently.

It suddenly occurred to Jean, somehow, to suck lightly on the skin. Javert’s breathy moan of response was plenty in the way of encouragement. Driven by the warmth boiling in his abdomen, he continued, applying slightly more pressure and a sucking a little harder, down Javert’s neck.

“Oh, yes, Jean–”

Jean leaned forward, and one of Javert’s hands raked up the back of his neck, into his hair. Jean shivered with delight and nipped Javert’s skin slightly, sucking harder, moving down ever so slightly.

“Yeah, right there,” Javert muttered, and his voice sounded so different, it sounded sensual, and heat ran up Jean’s neck and he felt he was being swallowed by something wonderful and terrible. He kept sucking, nibbling, right at that same tiny area of Javert’s neck. An artery pulsed quickly under the man’s warm skin. 

“Mm, just like that…” Javert’s voice was a breathy, low moan, causing Jean to feel another twinge of interest and a kind of desperation deep in his guts to do something more, to be closer to the other man, to be one with him.

Javert shifted and Jean felt a bizarre kind of lump between them that had not been there even a minute ago–

–Oh dear. Jean froze completely, and for a moment, Javert did too. 

Then Javert moved his leg again slightly, leaning more of his weight onto Jean’s thigh, and that lump was most definitely attached to Jean because he felt a wave of bliss when Javert rubbed against it, causing a little choked noise to escape his throat. He leaned back abruptly against the couch, eyes wide, turning bright red.

Javert was staring back at him. Those eyes, those damning eyes were wide and inquisitive and he leaned further onto the bulge in Jean’s trousers and Jean inhaled sharply. 

Javert raised his eyebrows. “You’re–”

“–I’m sorry,” Jean butted in before Javert could say something witty or seductive, or mock him about the pleasures of the flesh. “I don’t know how– Please just….” He swallowed and he had to look away. “Let’s just– I’d like it if we pretended that…  _ that  _ never happened,” he said meekly.

In a moment, Javert moved off his lap, relieving the pressure from his troublesome prick. He had a strange look about him that Jean couldn’t bare to look at. Jean was ashamed, most of all, and confused. 

“Jean,” Javert said. “Don’t be embarrassed. That’s–”

“–Please just pretend it didn’t happen, okay?”

Javert was silent then, and Jean believed for a moment that he understood. 

“But… It did happen. And you shouldn’t be ashamed that it happened.”

Jean blushed. “I am ashamed, though, and I’d like to do my best to forget about it.”

“Neither of us will forget, though. And you’ll just keep being humiliated.”

He was right. “I’ll be far less humiliated if we stop talking about it.”

“That’s probably not true.”

“I want to stop talking about it, Javert.”

“–But–”

“–Please.”

Another pause. A shallow sigh. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

There was another long silence, but this one wasn’t comfortable at all. Jean felt completely mortified. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Javert, and definitely not down at himself. 

What felt like ages later, Javert shifted. 

“I think… I’ll go, now.”

Jean didn’t know whether he was disappointed or relieved. “Okay.”

Javert stood. He walked to the dining room to collect his things, and Jean didn’t watch him, for fear of catching sight of his rear end, because he  _ knew  _ how it looked when Javert walked. 

Within five minutes, give or take a few, Jean was helping Javert into his coat. 

“Thank you for dinner, Jean,” the younger man said with a small smile. “I had a lovely time.”

Jean nodded, smiling back, though it was overshadowed by sheepishness. “You’re very welcome! Thank you for coming.”

Javert nodded. “We’ll keep in touch.” 

Jean nodded back. “Yes, indeed.”

Jean kept his distance from the other man, and when Javert moved closer for some kind of embrace, Jean deflected it as casually as he could muster. Javert, thankfully, got the hint. He opened the door. 

“Goodnight, Javert,” Jean said.

“Goodnight, Jean,” Javert replied, stepping out. 

“Have a safe trip home.”

“Thank you.”

Javert walked away, and Jean closed the door almost immediately.

***

Javert sat in bed later that night, thinking. Though he’d already fucked himself senseless with one of his larger dildos, he still couldn’t get that memory out of his head.

It had been so good. Jean’s kisses had been so wonderfully possessive and just right… And the protrusion Javert had felt, hard and insistent, against Jean’s left thigh… He had pushed his own leg against it to try to estimate its size, and it was massive, to say the least. It was thick and long and Javert wished he could have caught a glimpse of its shape in Jean’s trouser leg, at the minimum. 

Of course, Jean was a total prude. He was absolutely humiliated and refused to even acknowledge that he was aroused, beyond a completely unnecessary apology. That was expected. But Javert really did not think Jean needed to be so embarrassed. 

No matter. Javert did not think any less of Jean for what had happened. He simply wished Jean wasn’t so… chaste. Disgusted by sexuality. Suppressive. He would have liked nothing more in that moment than to take that wayward flesh into his own hand and show Jean pleasure he doubt the man had ever let himself feel. 

What’s more, Javert had a lovely deep purple mark forming on his neck to commemorate the occasion. It was somewhat of a participation ribbon, in the grand scheme of things, but at least he had not left empty-handed. 

***

Javert had been right, dang it. The man was right a lot, so Jean should have known that he couldn’t simply forget what had happened the night before. He had ignored his desperate, rebellious erection until it subsided, but the shame stayed past a cold shower, prayer, and sleep. 

He had prayed until God had forgiven him, surely. He should be feeling better. He hadn’t acted on any impure desires, anyway.

But Javert  _ felt… _ Javert experienced a tiny crack in Jean’s will. A moment of failure on his part. And Javert  _ felt,  _ and Jean had  _ felt  _ Javert on his–

He’d–

–

Jean did feel better after church. As he usually did. That was good. 

When he got back to his house, he checked his phone for the first time that morning and noticed a text from Javert:

> _ Good morning, Jean. Thanks again for a wonderful time last night. I was just about to drive to work and I noticed something a little different about my appearance. (7:23 am) _
> 
> _ [“Javert <3” sent a photo.] (7:25 am) _

Confused and intrigued, Jean opened his phone and looked at the message. The photo showed the bottom half of Javert’s face, down to around the region of his collarbone. He was wearing his police uniform, and, on the left side of his neck, just above the collar of his dark blue shirt, was a very noticeable bruise. Except it wasn’t a bruise, it was – Oh, dear. Jean blushed profusely as he remembered what had happened. 

> **Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry, Javert! I really hope no one noticed!!! :-/ (11:22 am)**

He stared at the photo. It wasn’t  _ that  _ bad, honestly. It wasn’t massive, or very high, or even all that dark compared to Javert’s skin tone. But it was just what Jean needed to bring all the shame back again. He felt like a teenager, with these hickeys and unwanted erections– It was absolutely ridiculous. Jean spent the rest of the morning in his garden, harvesting vegetables and trimming bushes. 

After finishing lunch, Jean checked his phone again. 

> _ I wasn’t seeking an apology from you. I just wanted to show you. I suppose I should have known better than to expect you to find it amusing. (12:12 pm) _
> 
> _ And if anyone noticed, they know better than to comment on it. (12:13 pm) _

Jean frowned at the messages from Javert. He wasn’t sure how to reply. Something about Javert at work baring the evidence of his romantic involvement with Jean made him feel… Many ways. Surprisingly, not all of them were completely negative. 

> **Well, that’s good. (12:41 pm)**
> 
> **How’s work going, Javert? (12:42 pm)**

Javert replied promptly. 

> _ Alright, thanks. Quite strenuous, and we still haven’t made much progress on this case. (12:43 pm) _
> 
> **Oh, that’s too bad. (12:43 pm)**
> 
> _ Certainly not ideal. But it could be – and has been – a lot worse. (12:44 pm) _
> 
> _ What about you, Jean? What have you been up to today? (12:44 pm) _
> 
> **Not a lot. (12:44) pm**
> 
> **I went to church, then when I got back, I did some gardening. My usual kind of thing. (12:46 pm)**
> 
> _ I see. (12:46 pm) _

Jean didn’t have very much to say. He didn’t have anything interesting to talk about, really, and he wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to ask Javert about his case.

> _ I ought to get back to work. (12:48 pm) _
> 
> _ I’ll talk to you later, Jean. (12:48 pm) _
> 
> **Okay! (12:48 pm)**
> 
> **Have a good afternoon, Javert. :) (12:49 pm)**
> 
> _ You, too. (12:50 pm) _

Jean was relieved that nothing seemed too different between them after what had happened the previous night. Javert truly didn’t seem to mind. 

He wondered if Javert had thought about what had happened after the fact, or if he’d put it out of his mind. He wondered if Javert found it funny. Probably– he recalled Javert’s sly comments about him denying himself sexual pleasure– the other man likely found it ironic that Jean’s self-control was so weak. But Javert didn’t seem so harshly judgemental… 

Jean was disappointed in himself for thinking about that again. He resolved to do something to distract himself.

Now would be a good time to read something intellectual and well-crafted to cleanse his palate after the horrid book Cosette had forced upon him. He walked upstairs to his bedroom to browse the bookshelf there. That’s where he kept his very favourite books, including several classics that would be sure to distract him.

***

Just one chapter into  _ Wuthering Heights,  _ Jean found himself distracted again. Why did Heathcliff remind him so startlingly of Javert? Was he going crazy? 

Well, no. There was quite the similarity in his physical appearance– _“a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman: that is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire: rather slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence, because he has an erect and handsome figure; and rather morose.”_ That sounded quite like Javert, though he wasn’t generally morose around Jean. He recalled, too, that Heathcliff was tall and broad-shouldered and had long dark hair and thick eyebrows with prominent creases between them and on his forehead– Heathcliff had small, black eyes and thin lips, but those were perhaps the only major physical difference between the two. 

The way he acted, too, at least in this first chapter, was quite like Javert. Heathcliff at this point was quite intelligent, withdrawn, reserved, sarcastic and dry but not rude.

Good grief. The other times Jean had read Emily Brontë’s novel, Heathcliff had been a firm antagonist for whom Jean had no sympathy whatsoever, and whose features were indistinct and unimportant. Now, however, Jean felt drawn to the character, and in his mind’s eye, he saw a slightly dirtier, scruffier Javert in Heathcliff’s place. 

He read on, knowing that as the story progressed, Heathcliff would take a turn to be absolutely nothing like the man of Jean’s affections. He’d get past the coincidence of their similarities soon, surely.

***

“Inspector Javert, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Trépannier began, as Javert was leaving that evening. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“That woman who came in around noon last week, was she your daughter?”

Javert chuckled. “No, most certainly not.”

“Ah. Who was she, then, if you don’t mind me asking?” The Lieutenant continued. 

“She’s… The daughter of a…” Javert hesitated a moment. “A close friend of mine.”

“Oh, I see. I would have commented that she must have received entirely her mother’s appearance.”

Javert didn’t quite know how to answer. He didn’t know where this conversation was coming from, or where his colleague intended it to go.

“Do you have a family, then?” Trépannier continued. 

“No,” Javert answered.

The Lieutenant leaned back in his desk chair. “Ah. I don’t have much of one either, really. I’m divorced as of two years, and my ex-wife gets the kids most of the time.”

Javert blinked. He honestly didn’t know what was going on here. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” 

The other man waved away his apology. “Oh, it’s alright. In this line of work, it’s probably best to be more of a loner. You feel less guilty about working long hours or going into dangerous situations.”

The Inspector only nodded. 

“But it seems you’ve got something going on, haven’t you?” Trépannier asked, grinning. “You’re not married, but you have someone, right?”

Javert’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Where are you getting that idea?”

Trépannier tapped the side of his own neck. “You’re bearing the evidence.”

Javert blushed, trying to hide his reaction by scowling. “And why do you think it’s appropriate to point it out?”

Trépannier raised his hands defensively. “Alright, sorry, I just thought maybe you’d want to talk about it.”

“Why on earth would I want that?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, maybe you’d like me to congratulate you on the pussy you got.”

Javert nearly wretched. “Fucking Christ. For further reference, no. That is the last thing I could possibly want.”

Trépannier rolled his eyes. “Geez, okay. I thought you’d just want a pat on the back for getting laid.”

“Please, just stop thinking, then.” Javert said, walking away. 

“Damn, okay. Goodnight, Javert,” Trépannier called after him. The Inspector declined to respond.


	12. The Magic of Modern Technology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhhh I wrote most of this chapter, had no ideas for the end, wrote an entirely different Valvert fanfic (which I will post soon), and then had an idea for the end of this chapter, went back to writing it, and then ended up not writing what I had planned anyway, lol.
> 
> CWs for this chapter: non-descriptive mentions of past homophobia and minor sexual assault. Racist and homophobic slurs used in a quotation from someone in the past.

A couple days later, Jean had to put down  _ Wuthering Heights,  _ with no plans to pick it up again in the near future. After Catherine died, he simply couldn’t bear to read it any longer. He knew it was a sad book, but before, it had been bearable to read because he could blame much of the sadness on Heathcliff. He could dislike – even hate — Heathcliff, and feel the pain of the other characters. But now… Oh, now he was attached to Heathcliff, too. Though it was true that this character was quite different from Javert, he had clung on to every similarity and somehow felt deeply for this antagonist.

Jean saw himself in the women who loved Heathcliff, though they shared even fewer similarities. He saw himself in Isabella, who ached to be with Heathcliff at every moment, and thought he was a much better man than he thought himself to be. And he saw himself even more in Catherine, who denied herself the pleasure of being with Heathcliff and tortured them both in the process…

Though the situation was so incredibly different, Jean’s infatuation for Javert led him to see his own predicament in the novel, and when Heathcliff cried that Catherine had broken the both of their hearts by denying herself what her heart truly wanted… Jean saw in his mind’s eye Javert bemoaning Jean’s chastity, how he cut their kisses short, how he tread so carefully around boundaries he himself invented. Jean was denying himself what he wanted with Javert, wasn’t he? And although the stakes for Jean and Javert were nowhere near as great as they were for Catherine and Heathcliff, Jean felt pained and distressed and guilty and had to put the book away. 

As he distracted himself by going on a long walk, he realized how foolish he was being. He didn’t even know what exactly Javert wanted. Javert may have been perfectly content with the way their relationship was at. He may have had no real desire to take anything further. Jean felt he was probably inventing that Javert was yearning for him in order to justify his own desires. This was silly. Besides, their text conversations had shown no indication to him that Javert wanted anything else. 

Jean sat down at a park bench to read their text conversations from the past few days, in order to solidify with himself that Javert was content, and that he should be as well.

> – – – 
> 
> Sunday
> 
> _ I just had a really uncomfortable conversation with some guy I’m working with. (6:03 pm) _
> 
> **Oh? (6:05 pm)**
> 
> _ Yeah. He asked if I had a family, and when I said no, he said it’s probably better to have no family as a police officer. Then he told me he is divorced, but that he didn’t want my sympathy. Then he tried to congratulate me on getting laid on the basis of me having a hickey. It was very strange. (6:14 pm) _
> 
> **Good grief!!! That does sound very uncomfortable!! :-/ (6:15 pm)**
> 
> _ For sure. What do you think he wanted to get out of that? (6:15 pm) _
> 
> **I honestly don’t know, Javert. Maybe he’s lonely and just wanted someone to talk to? (6:16 pm)**
> 
> _ About our sex lives? (6:17 pm) _
> 
> **That’s what a lot of men like to talk about, right? (6:20 pm)**
> 
> _ I suppose so. I hope he won’t try again. (6:20 pm) _
> 
> **Did you let him know you didn’t want to talk about it? (6:21 pm)**
> 
> _ Yes. (6:21 pm) _
> 
> **Good. (6:22 pm)**
> 
> – – –
> 
> _ Did you end up finishing that book? (11:42 pm) _
> 
> _ The one with the sex scene? (11:43 pm) _
> 
> – – –
> 
> Monday 
> 
> **Goodness, no! (7:15 am)**
> 
> **I moved on to Brontë, as I said I would. :P (7:16 am)**
> 
> _ I see. Good choice. (7:20 am) _
> 
> _ Are you on your way to the gym now? (7:22 am) _
> 
> **Yes, actually! (7:23 am)**
> 
> _ I still can’t believe that you’re at the gym this early every day. You must be lying. (7:23 am) _
> 
> **Haha, no! I’m not lying! I just got to the gym now. (7:28 am)**
> 
> _ As much as I want to believe you, I just can’t. (7:29 am) _
> 
> **Why would I lie about that? (7:29 am)**
> 
> _ I don’t know. But I’m just having trouble believing you. (7:30 am) _
> 
> _ I would believe you if you send me a picture of you at the gym, though. (7:30 am) _
> 
> **Um, okay… (7:30 am)**
> 
> **[You sent a photo.] (7:31 am)**
> 
> _ That’s just a picture of the gym. You could’ve got it from the Internet. I meant a picture of YOU, at the gym. (7:31 am) _
> 
> **If you insist… (7:32 am)**
> 
> **[You sent a photo.] (7:33 am)**
> 
> _ Well, you could have taken that at home; it’s just your face. I mean a full body picture of you in a mirror, with weights or machines or something in the background. Then I’ll believe you. (7:33 am) _
> 
> **Javert, I can’t do that! People will see! (7:34 am)**
> 
> _ Then I guess that’s just proof you’re not at the gym. (7:34 am) _
> 
> **I really am at the gym!!! I don’t get why you think I’m lying… (7:35 am)**
> 
> _ I will believe you when I see that picture. (7:35 am) _
> 
> **Fine! (7:36 am)**
> 
> **[You sent a photo.] (7:37 am)**
> 
> _ Wow, you really are at the gym! (7:37 am) _
> 
> _ I believe you now. (7:38 am) _
> 
> **Goodness, Javert. Why are you such a skeptic? (7:38 am)**
> 
> **Why would I lie to you about going to the gym?** **(7:39 am)**
> 
> **And how does that blurry mirror picture of me prove anything? I could have taken that some other time. (7:39 am)**
> 
> **Javert? (7:44 am)**
> 
> – – – 
> 
> **Was this some kind of trick? (9:32 am)**
> 
> – – – 
> 
> _ Yes. (12:10 pm) _
> 
> _ I believed from the start you were at the gym. (12:1o pm) _
> 
> _ It was entirely a ruse. (12:11 pm) _
> 
> **JAVERT!!! XD (12:13 pm)**
> 
> **You’re too sneaky. Why would you do that?? I didn’t realize you were such a trickster. (12:14 pm)**
> 
> _ I’m not the biggest fan of practical jokes. But that was amusing. (12:14 pm) _
> 
> **I suppose it was! You really did get me. :P (12:15 pm)**
> 
> _ Also, Jean, I must say… You look lovely in that photo you sent me. Those shorts and muscle shirt show off your form extremely well. (12:16 pm)  _
> 
> **Oh, why, thank you, Javert! :) (12:16 pm)**
> 
> _ It’s almost like… A body can’t really look like that. Wait… I think I see a little curve in that mirror! I think you retouched the photo! You edited it to make yourself look more muscular! (12:17 pm) _
> 
> **What?! Why would I do that?! (12:18 pm)**
> 
> **HOW would I do that? I can’t use photoshop, let alone that quickly. (12:18 pm)**
> 
> _ I don’t know, Jean… That photo seemed too good to be true. If you send me another like it right now, I’ll believe it isn’t retouched. (12:19 pm) _
> 
> **Oh, you almost got me again, Javert! You really are a sly fox, aren’t you? :D (12:2o pm)**
> 
> _ Hah. Yes. (12:20 pm) _
> 
> **You can’t fool me twice with the same joke! I’m not that gullible. :P (12:21 pm)**
> 
> _ This is true. You’re too intelligent to fall for that again. (12:21 pm) _
> 
> **So, how was your morning, dear? (12:24 pm)**
> 
> _ It was quite good, thank you. We’re slowly but surely making progress on the case. (12:25 pm) _
> 
> **Great to hear! (12:25 pm)**
> 
> **And that colleague hasn’t been inappropriate to you again, I hope? (12:26 pm)**
> 
> _ No, he hasn’t, thankfully. At least not yet. (12:26 pm) _
> 
> **Whew! ‘:) I sincerely hope it stays that way. (12:26 pm)**
> 
> _ Me, too. (12:27 pm) _
> 
> _ How has your day been, after you came back from the gym? (12:29 pm) _
> 
> **It’s been fine. I took a shower, then I relaxed and read a bit of Wuthering Heights. (12:30 pm)**
> 
> **Do you know that book, Javert? (12:30 pm)**
> 
> _ I’ve never read of it, but I’ve heard of it. Isn’t there incest in it? (12:31 pm) _
> 
> **Yes, between cousins. But that’s not the point of the story. Plus, it takes place at a time where that was much more normal. (12:31 pm)**
> 
> _ Of course. (12:32 pm) _
> 
> **There’s also a guy in it who looks quite a bit like you! (12:33 pm)**
> 
> _ A tall, long-haired, dark-skinned man? In a book from that era? Must be the villain. (12:34 pm) _
> 
> _ Is he Roma, too? (12:34 pm) _
> 
> **They call him a gypsy, so I think he is Roma, yes. And, unfortunately, he is the villain. (12:35 pm)**
> 
> _ Of course. How ugly is he? (12:36 pm) _
> 
> **He’s not ugly! Two different women are head over heels for him. (12:37 pm)**
> 
> _ With a Romani? This must be quite the progressive novel. (12:37 pm) _
> 
> _ And he must be quite a bit more good-looking than me. (12:38 pm) _
> 
> **Certainly not! Based on his description, I would say he’s good-looking, for sure. But he’s got small black eyes and thin lips. So you’re more attractive. :P (12:39 pm)**
> 
> _ Oh? So you must be into the tall, dark, and handsome type? (12:39 pm) _
> 
> **For sure! ;) (12:40 pm)**
> 
> _ I see. I suppose that explains your attraction to me. I’m tall and dark; 2 for 3 isn’t bad. (12:41 pm) _
> 
> **Oh, stop it! You are very handsome, Javert! (12:41 pm)**
> 
> _ You do seem to be convinced of that, yes. (12:42 pm) _
> 
> **Completely. And you won’t be able to change that. (12:43 pm)**
> 
> _ Hmm. Fine. (12:44 pm) _
> 
> _ I’m being called back to work, now. It was good to talk to you, as always, Jean. (12:45 pm) _
> 
> **Okay! Have a good afternoon, dear. :) (12:45 pm)**
> 
> – – – 
> 
> **Javert, I’ve been thinking… What was the purpose of those tricks of yours? Did you just want photos of me or something? (2:23 pm)**
> 
> – – –
> 
> _ Perhaps... (6:42 pm) _
> 
> **Why? (6:44 pm)**
> 
> _ Because you look nice. (6:45 pm) _
> 
> **Well, thanks! :) (6:45 pm)**
> 
> **Why did you feel you had to trick me, though? You could have just asked me to send you a photo. (6:46 pm)**
> 
> _ Really? Would you have sent me one? (6:46 pm) _
> 
> **Of course! (6:47 pm)**
> 
> _ Without questioning me? (6:47  pm) _
> 
> **Well, I suppose I would have asked you the same question I did earlier… Why you would want a photo of me. (6:48 pm)**
> 
> _ And if I said I wanted it because you look nice, you would have sent it? (6:49 pm) _
> 
> **Yes! Why wouldn’t I? (6:50 pm)**
> 
> _ I don’t know. It seems like something you wouldn’t want to do for some reason no one understands but you. (6:50 pm) _
> 
> **Haha, okay. That’s true. :P (6:51 pm)**
> 
> _ To be clear, you would be okay if I asked you to send photos of yourself? (6:53 pm)  _
> 
> **Yes, I would. (6:53 pm)**
> 
> _ Good. (6:55 pm) _
> 
> Tuesday
> 
> – – – 
> 
> _ What kind of photos would you be willing to send to me? (12:14 am) _
> 
> – – – 
> 
> **What do you mean by that? (6:53 am)**
> 
> _ I’m not sure what I meant. I was quite tired. (7:00 am) _
> 
> **Haha, okay. :P Well, what kind of pictures would you want? (7:01 am)**
> 
> _ Selfies of any kind. Gym photos are especially nice. (7:02 am) _
> 
> **I see. Would you like another gym photo today? :) (7:03 am)**
> 
> _ I would appreciate that very much, yes. (7:10 am)  _
> 
> **Ask, and you shall receive! ;) (7:12 am)**
> 
> **[You sent a photo.] (7:33 am)**
> 
> – – – 
> 
> _ Wow… (12:22 pm)  _
> 
> **Good ‘wow’, I hope? (12:31 pm)**
> 
> _ Of course. You look phenomenal, Jean. I can’t stop staring at your arms in that photo. (12:35 pm) _
> 
> **Aw, thank you! ‘:) You’re so kind. (12:36 pm)**
> 
> _ I’m only speaking the obvious truth. You’ve got the kind of body most men can only dream of having. (12:38 pm) _
> 
> **Oh, Javert, you’re making me blush! :3 (12:39 pm)**
> 
> _ Am I, now? (12:40 pm) _
> 
> **Yes, you’re very good at doing that. (12:40 pm)**
> 
> _ Hmm, it does seem so. It helps that you seem to blush at the least provocation. (12:41 pm) _
> 
> **Do I really? (12:41 pm)**
> 
> _ Most definitely. (12:43 pm) _
> 
> _ Considering it a victory whenever I make you blush has dramatically increased my self-esteem. (12:44 pm) _
> 
> **Well, I’m happy that I’m helping you. :P (12:44 pm)**
> 
> _ I’ll get back to it after work. (12:45 pm) _
> 
> _ I’ll talk to you later, my Adonis. I’ll be thinking of you. (12:47 pm) _
> 
> **Oh, you did it again! I’m bright red!! ‘:D (12:48 pm)**
> 
> – – – 

Jean couldn’t help but blush again as he reread those messages. Javert was quite the charmer. 

But there was nothing in the conversation that suggested he was longing for something more. Javert seemed comfortable and satisfied with their relationship, and very happy. 

Jean was relieved at this. It would make it far easier for him to curb his shameful yearnings if Javert did not reciprocate them. It seemed that Javert  _ would  _ sleep with Jean, perhaps, but Jean didn’t feel that the other man was lusting over him. He was obviously admiring of Jean’s physique, but that didn't necessarily indicate a sexual desire. 

***

As soon as Javert got home that evening, he flopped onto his couch and pulled out his phone. 

He read the last text from Jean:

> _ Oh, you did it again! I’m bright red!! ‘:D (12:48 pm) _

Javert smirked. This was a lot of fun. He pondered on what to say next. 

> **Good evening, handsome. You’ve been on my mind all afternoon. (7:12 pm)**

This was completely accurate. In every momentary break from work, his thoughts had been on Jean and Jean alone. And this little game he’d planned; to be as flirtatious and suggestive as he possibly could be over text, without being flat-out sexual. He was hoping to warm Jean up to this, slowly but surely, until he would eventually have to give in. It was difficult, though, to not be flat-out obscene. He was deeply infatuated with this man, and it was incredibly hard to put a cork on his lust. He often had to delete and rewrite his messages to Jean when they sounded too forward. Especially in response to the pictures he’d received from Jean… Fuck, those made Javert salivate. He was slightly startled by his phone vibrating;

> _ Oh, my, Javert! You’re at it again, aren’t you? :3 I have to confess I’ve been thinking a lot of you, too… (7:29 pm) _

Javert grinned, his gums showing just as much as his teeth. 

> **Have you, Jean? I’m flattered to be on your mind. (7:29 pm)**
> 
> _ :) (7:30 pm) _
> 
> _ Is there a chance I can see you tonight? (7:31 pm) _

Javert smiled even wider. Was it working?

> **Would you come over to my place? I would rather not go anywhere tonight. (7:31 pm)**
> 
> _ Sure! :) (7:32 pm) _
> 
> _ I’ll leave ASAP! (7:32 pm) _

Fuck yes. 

There was a problem, however… Javert’s apartment had not been cleaned properly in some time, what with his obsessive focus on the case. It wasn’t disgusting, per se, but it was certainly not up to Javert’s personal standards. There were dishes that had been cleaned but not put away, and others had hadn’t even been cleaned. There were books Javert had pulled off the shelf to look something up but not replaced afterwards. There were socks, shirts, and various pairs of underwear on the ground. Most definitely not ideal for company. Well. Jean generally took about twenty minutes to walk to Javert’s apartment building, so that would at least give him time to pick up the extraneous items. 

He immediately began doing so; starting with the clothing. He gathered each item and brought them into his bedroom to fold them and return each of them to the dresser. 

He was part way through dealing with the books when his phone buzzed.

> _ I’m almost at your place! :) (7:46 pm) _

_ What?!  _ No… It had barely been ten minutes!! 

Javert hastily finished with his bundle of books and rushed to check if there was anything else embarassing or personal out in the open. He caught sight of a bottle of lube and quickly returned it to his bedroom. 

Javert’s home phone rang. Assuming it was Jean, he pressed 9 to let him in. He glanced over the apartment one last time and checked in the mirror that he didn’t have something stuck in his teeth. He looked like a tired wreck with his messy hair and old sweatpants and sweatshirt, but there wasn’t any time…

There was a knock. Javert turned the bathroom light off and opened his door. 

Jean smiled. “Good evening, Javert!”

“Good evening. You’ll have to excuse the appearance of both me and my apartment. The case has really eaten away at my time.” He stepped aside to allow the other man entrance. 

“Oh, don’t you worry. I understand what it’s like to be busy!” he said, dismissing Javert’s concerns with a wave.

Once he was over the threshold, Javert closed and locked the door. “I was expecting a few more minutes to tidy before you arrived, as well… How did you get here so quickly?”

“I took an Uber,” Jean replied, removing his coat – the same one Javert had accidentally stolen. “I wanted to get here as soon as possible.”

“Ah, I see.” Javert took the other man’s coat from him and hung it on a peg by the door. 

Jean laid a hand on his waist. “So… Have I truly been on your mind all afternoon?”

Javert turned to him. “Of course. And all morning, and before that. You’re always in my thoughts, it seems, even if I’m not actively thinking about you.”

The older man was blushing. “That’s so sweet. I think I’m in a similar boat. When my mind wanders, it wanders back to you without fail.”

Javert gave a small smile. “I’m glad your feet wandered to me as well. As lovely as it is to think about you, I much prefer to be with you in person.”

Jean stood on his toes to give Javert a short peck on the lips. “I agree.” 

In a moment, they moved to sit down on the couch, and Jean had cuddled up to Javert. 

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but you look quite tired,” Jean pointed out. 

“Hmm, yes,” Javert acknowledged. “I suppose I have been sleeping quite a bit less than is ideal.”

“You poor thing.” Jean stroked his hair gently. “It seems they’ve overworked you. No time to take care of yourself.” His voice had taken on a caring, pseudo-parental tone.

“Oh, it’s alright. I’ve had much worse.” 

“Worse?” Jean exclaimed. “Goodness… How much worse can it get?”

Javert met the other’s eyes. “Believe me, much worse. I have gone three days without sleeping, multiple times.”

Jean gasped. “That’s outrageous! How are you supposed to function like that?”

“We simply have to. Police work is much different than a nine-to-five office job, of course. You can’t just clock out and go home if a criminal is on the loose.”

Jean shook his head. “Yes, but… No one should have to live like that. And then come home to a house that hasn’t been cleaned and dinner that hasn’t been made… You have eaten, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Javert said. He did have dinner, since he was very hungry due to not having eaten since he’d shoved a granola bar in his mouth while sitting in traffic that morning. 

“Good. And you’ve had a shower?”

“Yes, I only skip showers in the most dire of circumstances. Why, do I smell like I haven’t showered?”

Jean shook his head. “No, you smell fine;  I’m just making sure. I’m quite worried about you, dear.”

“I can tell.”

Jean looked around the apartment. “I’d like to help you, if you don’t mind.”

“Help me? With what?”

“How about I clean and put away your dishes for you?”

Javert shook his head. “No, I couldn’t have you be my maid.”

“I  _ want _ to do it for you, though. Just so that there’s one less thing you have to think about.”

“Jean, it’s alright. I’ll do them myself.” 

“Absolutely not! I want you to relax for a moment while I do your dishes and keep you company.” 

“No, that’s outrageous. I won’t let you do my chores for me.”

He sighed. “Fine. Will you at least let me  _ help _ you do them?”rs

Javert considered this. With Jean’s help, it would take half the time – probably less – versus him doing it himself. “You didn’t come here to wash dishes.”

“Please, Javert?” Jean asked, squeezing the younger man’s hand. “I want to help you with something. It’s no trouble at all for me, really.”

Javert caved. “Alright, if you insist.” 

Jean smiled and he stood. “Great! Let’s get to it, then!” 

With a surprising amount of pep, Jean made his way to the kitchen area of Javert’s apartment, with the other trudging close behind. 

“I’ll wash, and you put away?” Jean suggested. “Since you know your organization system better than I do.”

The Inspector nodded. “Logical.” He picked up some of the dishes that had already been cleaned and began to put them away. 

He heard Jean start the tap. “I suppose I’ve got nothing to talk to you about,” he mused, “considering we’ve been texting all day.”

“Yes, the magic of modern technology,” Javert said, sorting utensils into a drawer. 

“When we were younger, we wouldn’t have been able to keep in touch throughout the day. We’d have to call each other, and only when we were both at home. Isn’t that crazy to think?” Javert heard the clatter of a plate being put on the dish rack. 

“Indeed. And I wouldn’t have the privilege of your gym photos.”

Jean laughed. “That’s true! Nor would I get your charmingly witty texts.”

“At least I would be able attempt to be charming and witty in face-to-face conversation. Twenty or thirty years ago, you would have had to mail me a polaroid of you in shorts and a muscle shirt.” 

Jean laughed heartily. “Oh, dear. That would be impractical, wouldn’t it? I think it’s best that we’ve met as older men, for many reasons.”

Jean collected some bowls from the other counter. “What are the other reasons?”

“Well, now we can be somewhat affectionate to each other in public without getting yelled at by strangers.”

“I suppose, though I’m not sure who in their right mind would yell at a six-foot-four cop and a man of your muscle mass.”

“If that were true, neither of us would have ever been mocked for being gay.”

Javert nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Though most of the mocking for me came before I was a cop, and when I wasn’t so tall… Or when I was tall but skinny and looked rather feminine.”

“I have a difficult time imagining that you looked feminine,” Jean admitted. 

“Yes, well. When I was sixteen it was a different story. When my shoulders hadn’t broadened and I didn’t have such pronounced facial features. I was late to finish puberty. My balls dropped and I grew fairly tall along with other boys, but I didn’t grow much facial or body hair until I was eighteen and my voice didn’t drop all the way until I was something like twenty. I think I looked and sounded like a proper man by twenty-two, maybe? And all this time I was drooling over every male individual who gave me any attention. Plus, I looked even more like my prostitute mother than I do now. I inherited the waist and ass that drew in her customers. I would sometimes have my ass slapped by men on the street who thought I was a woman. My nicknames in high school were all variations on ‘that gypsy faggot’.”

Javert heard the tap shut off and suddenly felt arms around his waist, and he froze. 

“I’m so sorry, Javert,” Jean said, hugging him tightly from behind. “That’s horrible.”

Javert blushed. He’d been rambling. He’d never told this to  _ anyone  _ before. “Don’t apologize. I should be apologizing for having told you all this–”

Valjean took the bowl Javert was holding out of his hands and put it on the counter. He turned Javert around to look at him. “Please don’t feel badly for opening up to me. Thank you for trusting me like this. I am honoured that you’re willing to share your pain with me.”

“It’s not painful, Jean. Not anymore. It’s been so long that I’ve stopped caring.” That wasn’t entirely true, and it seemed Jean could see that.

“You’re so strong and so brave, Javert. You’re incredibly resilient to have overcome all that. And I hope you know there’s nothing wrong with you. Not because of your body or your sexuality or your autism or anything. You’re absolutely perfect just the way God made you – or whoever or whatever you believe made you. You’re gorgeous and intelligent and witty and I’m so glad you are the way that you are, and that we met the way that we did. I am blessed to know you, Javert, and I am blessed to be allowed to show you affection and care. You are one of the best things to have ever happened to me and I never want you to lose sight of how important you are to me and to this world.”

Javert didn’t know what to say. He felt warm and he felt overwhelmed. No one had ever said such things to him. He didn’t think he’d ever heard words like that said to anyone. He blinked, his mouth opened uselessly. His throat felt so tight. He reached out to Jean and hugged him tight, the other man immediately returning the embrace, his strong arms and solid form keeping him close. 

A single tear slid down Javert’s cheek. When was the last time he’d cried? Could he even remember? He wiped it away so Jean wouldn’t notice and hugged the man tighter still.


End file.
